The Logistics of Being Superman
by VictorianSuperman
Summary: What started out as a silly ficlet about a little known aspect of Superman's life has grown. Chapter 6 up!
1. It's Not Easy

**Disclaimer: I do not own Superman or any of the characters… I just have fun with them. **

**This is my first fic in a really, really long time- reviews are appreciated. I was re-watching Superman Returns yesterday when this silly little plot bunny bit me during the hospital scene… primarily when the doctors and nurses are shown removing his suit. I have an odd imagination. I'm thinking of creating a series entitled "The Logistics of being Superman". Let me know what you think.**

There are many things in this world that make Clark Kent happy- on most days it is usually Jason, daydreaming of Lex Luthor behind bars, world peace and watching Lois as she chews on the ends of her pencils. Today, it was the ADA.

After his release from the hospital, Clark Kent found his life falling into something resembling a routine. He would spend his days at the Daily Planet- alternately spent between writing, stolen moments with Jason, watching Lois from the corner of his eye and surreptitiously zooming out the elevator shaft when his alter-ego was needed. In the aftermath of the earthquake caused by the New Krypton debacle, Superman found himself busier than ever before. It seemed that every lowlife in the greater Metropolis area took the event as a personal invitation to wreak havoc on the city. While Superman was not busy, Clark Kent it seemed had been spending every waking moment at the Planet, helping cover the plethora of stories brought forth by the disaster.

After an extremely late night assisting police with a hostage situation (which ended rather successfully in his opinion), Clark had managed an hour of shuteye before he had to meet Lois at the Planet to follow an early lead. Mid-morning found Clark back at his desk nursing a cup of what was dubbed the 'Lois Lane Special'- coffee, black (practically syrup, it was so thick) with two sugars.

"Hey!" Jimmy Olson walked by Clark's desk nearly knocking him over "you might want to take it easy- that's your sixth cup of coffee in two hours. You're not exactly Superman- too much of Lois' coffee can be lethal you know" he quipped.

"Oh, ok. Thanks Jimmy." Clark frowned at his mug (Scooby-doo, courtesy of Jason on his birthday), had he really drank that much? 'I must be slipping,' he thought to himself. As he continued working, a small part of his brain registered that maybe he should cut back a bit to avoid bringing more unwanted attention to himself. Being Superman, caffeine didn't affect him the way it did humans. It was more of a placebo effect- he could actually eat all of the coffee beans in Columbia and not have one iota of a caffeine buzz. 'When did I start drinking so much coffee? Man, Lois must be rubbing off on me.'

He glanced about casually and noticed that everyone in the bullpen had a mug either in their hand or on their desk. Most people, he surmised, would get the stimulation they wanted from one or two cups of coffee (in Lois' case, three) before calling it quits. Since it did not affect him, Clark did not have that signal to tell him when to quit drinking coffee for the day- hence the attention from Jimmy. 'If Jimmy noticed, I wonder who else noticed.' Clark then filed Jimmy's comment away for future reference.

Finished with his inner dissertation on the affects of caffeine on humans versus Kryptonians as well as his last cup of coffee, Clark focused on his articles. Ten minutes later, he was just starting to wrap up his second article when he felt it- the other side effect to drinking six cups of coffee in two hours that, unfortunately, even Kryptonians weren't immune to. He really had to pee.

Clark sighed, stood and made his way to the restrooms. As he approached the door, he quickly scanned the facilities with his x-ray vision to make sure the room was empty. Once the coast was clear, Clark tried to look as nonchalant as possible entering the men's room when all he wanted to do was super-speed in there. He really shouldn't have had so much coffee.

Soon Clark had safely locked himself in the largest stall; now came the hard part. He thanked every God he could think of that the facilities had been remodeled. He still had nightmares about getting stuck in the old restrooms at the Planet. He spun quickly and his three piece business suit hung neatly from the peg on the back of the door. He hoped that no one would walk in, especially Jason. Clark felt self-conscious enough about the large gaps between the walls and the floor without having the 'munchkin' (as Lois affectionately called him) that much closer to spying his bright red boots as he moved around.

Clark shook his head, quickly pushing those thoughts aside and set about relieving himself as quickly as possible. He inwardly cursed the Kryptonian that designed such beautiful one-piece suits without zippers as he had to strip to his waist and drag his cape on the floor. 'Really. All of the knowledge from an umpteen number of races spanning twenty-eight known galaxies and they couldn't put some kind of fastener on the suit?' Soon however, all conscious thought fled as relief flooded his body. He had to keep from moaning out loud, it felt so good. 'Wow, I really had to pee. No more coffee for me today.' Clark quickly finished his business and redressed, sighing loudly when he realized that his cape had landed in a puddle of water on the floor.

After washing his hands, Clark took a quick minute to adjust his tie before heading back out into the bullpen. As he reached for the handle, the door quickly swung inwards revealing Richard carrying Jason in his arms. He quickly stuttered "Excuse me." as they moved into the stall that Clark had just occupied, before he retreated to the relative safety of his desk.

Leaning back in his chair, Clark made a mental note to talk to his mom about putting a zipper in his suit. "I don't care how stupid it looks- it sure would make my life a heck of a lot easier." he muttered.

"What would be easier?" Lois called from her desk a few feet away. Clark had forgotten about Lois' mommy-senses which, he determined, almost rivaled his own powers after watching her over the past few weeks.

"Umm…. Uh… nothing Lois. I was just thinking out loud. Sorry." He chuckled to himself at the thought of what Lois' reaction might be if he were to clue her in on his inner dialogue. It really was quite amusing.

She gave him a strange look. "Oh ok. Whatever you say Clark." before turning back to her computer monitor.

Clark continued his musings. One good thing from his extended absence- the Planet had remodeled restrooms courtesy of an ex-employee and her lawyers. Even though the building was old enough to be exempt from the code, the employee sicced her lawyers on the Planet like so many pitbulls (as Lois so colorfully put it), citing the ADA and precedents until Perry had caved and remodeled the restrooms to comfortably fit a wheelchair.

'Sure makes my life easier. Now I don't have to fly home every time I drink too much coffee. Thank God for the ADA and handicapped restroom stalls.'


	2. It's Not Entirely an Act

**Disclaimer: I do not own Superman or any of the characters… I just have fun with them. **

**And now, chapter two of ****The Logistics of Superman**** or "It's Not Entirely an Act…"**

"Thanks for letting me use your laptop, Jimmy." Clark said with a smile as he made a show of hefting the case for his friend.

"Not a problem, C.K. It's the least I could do since you spoke to Superman about my pictures. Man, I haven't had a single bad shot all week!" Jimmy practically bounced up and down as he was talking, reminding Clark of a certain five year old. Speaking of five year olds, Clark noticed that Jason had fallen asleep on the sofa again as Lois and Richard worked to finish an editorial before leaving. A soft smile graced Clark's lips as he watched his son sleep for a few precious moments and wondered if Lois would let him baby-sit again sometime soon.

"Um, C.K.? Is everything alright?" Jimmy broke into his thoughts. "I thought you had left already."

Clark shook his head, startled, "I'm swell!" He jerked his thumb towards the elevators, "Just leaving, uh, right now." With that, Clark turned on his heel towards the elevators tripping over a trashcan, two loose newspapers and a piece of lint on his way. Jimmy winced as Clark made a spectacular save after knocking a vase off of Cat Grant's desk, only to crush it under his chest when he lost his footing and fell flat. He quickly made his way over to Clark, grabbing him by the arm and helping him up.

Clark wearily got to his feet, straightening his glasses, looking deflated at the fact that there was smelly water and flattened geraniums all down the front of his suit. "Don't worry about it C.K., I can clean it up for you. You should go home, you look awfully tired."

"Jimmy, I couldn't ask you to clean up after me." Clark interjected, his Midwestern upbringing clearly showing through as he stooped to pick up glass shards and crushed flowers.

"Like I said before, I don't mind. You're tired and you'll likely knock something else over. I think Cat would appreciate it if at least one of her vases were left intact for tomorrow. Besides, didn't you have something to do tonight?" Jimmy gestured at the laptop.

Clark sighed, knowing that he had been defeated on this. He was really tired; since he came back, he'd been too busy between both of his jobs to look for an apartment. As such, he hadn't slept in an actual bed in several months, opting instead to catnap high over the Atlantic Ocean outside of known flight paths. Since his mom had moved to Montana with her new husband, he couldn't sleep there; Ben didn't know his secret.

"Ok Jimmy. You win. I will buy you a coffee tomorrow to make it up to you. How's that sound?"

"You've got yourself a deal!" Jimmy replied with a broad smile.

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With a sigh, Clark sank into the comfortable, overstuffed leather chair at one of the quieter cafes in Metropolis, grateful to have a night off from both of his jobs for once. He cocked his head to the side, extending his hearing to cover the greater Metropolis area. _Perfect_. He thought, _nothing the police can't handle right now._ The laptop that he had borrowed from Jimmy sat innocuously next to his coffee cup and half-eaten sandwich. Clark absentmindedly nibbled on the sandwich as he waited for the computer to boot up. He wrinkled his nose as the smell of crushed flowers wafted up from the front of his suit. At least it hadn't stained too badly.

When the desktop came into view, Clark jumped a mile high in his seat as the start-up sounds blared and he came face to face with his alter-ego. His head whipped around, making sure no one noticed any similarities between himself and the caped-wonder. The photo was obviously one that Jimmy had taken during the earthquake and had blown up to ridiculous proportions. Looking closer, Clark wondered idly if he should look into trimming his nose hairs. _I wonder if Mom still has those bolt cutters._

"I guess Lois isn't the only Super-phile in the office." He muttered under his breath, shaking his head as he did. The lady sitting next to him tut-tutted from the depths of her book at his interruptions. He apologized softly and turned back to the business at hand.

Adjusting the wireless card, Clark was able to log onto the wi-fi network at the café. He clicked open the internet browser and made his way over to Google™. After tapping in his search terms, he sat back and waited for the results to pop up on his screen.

_Hallelujah for the internet._ He thought, _It makes my life so much easier sometimes._ Normally, his mom would order his wardrobe and have it shipped to her house where he would pick up his three-piece suits and accessories when he needed them. Now, with her in Montana, newly married, Clark couldn't bring himself to ask her to do that for him. Besides, what would they tell Ben?

He mused, w_hat would it hurt letting him in on the family secret?_ When his mom had originally broached the subject, he had adamantly refused to let her say anything to her new husband. While she had masked a hurt look at the time, he hadn't paid any attention to it. When he thought about it now, it really did make sense. Who would Ben tell? Martha was his only family now. And, in a way, so was Clark. Ben was the type of guy that would never purposely hurt those close to him and it seemed that he could keep a secret. Clark made a mental note to call his mother sometime in the next few days to chat. He missed her and they had a lot to talk about.

The laptop beeped, indicating that his search was complete. After a half hour of clicking through sites with no luck, Clark finally found a website that had what he needed. He ordered three pairs of brown and four pairs of black, charged them to his credit card and had the items shipped to the Planet. _I really need to find a place to live. The Chief will kill me when he sees that I've had more stuff shipped to work._ Clark chuckled as he remembered Perry's reaction to the steady stream of packages trickling in over the past several weeks- 'Kent! This is a newsroom, not a P.O. Box!'

"Well, it is only one more box. He won't mind." Clark sighed to himself and apologized briefly to the lady next to him for interrupting her reading again. He shut down the laptop and was focused on finishing his sandwich and coffee when he heard the faint cry for help.

_A hero's work is never done, is it?_ Clark downed the lukewarm coffee, tossed a few bills on the table, grabbed his briefcase and the laptop and hurried out the front door. But not without tripping on the rug first.

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A week later, found the Daily Planet newsroom bustling several hours before the afternoon deadline. A gentleman in a brown uniform stepped out of the elevator and stopped the first person he saw. "Delivery for Mr. Clark Kent.", he muttered and thrust the electronic keypad at Jimmy who quickly signed for the package. "Last name?" the delivery man inquired.

"Olsen." Jimmy replied distractedly while trying to get a hold of the enormous box.

"Great, thanks. Have a nice day." He didn't wait to hear a reply or see if Jimmy needed help; he grabbed his dolly and retreated to the elevator.

In the meantime, Jimmy was not having any luck balancing the box with his camera around his neck. The package slipped through his fingers and landed on his foot with a 'Thud!' He hopped up and down on one foot, wondering what was in the box that was so heavy. The top of the box had popped open, revealing several smaller boxes inside. Deciding to heed Clark's privacy even though his curiosity was burning, he folded the flaps down and managed to pick up the box once he slung his camera over his back and out of the way.

Moving gingerly and unable to see over the top of the box, Jimmy wove through desks and people before placing the box precariously on the edge of Clark's desk. There it sat for over an hour, before anyone else noticed it.

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Lois was nibbling on the end of her pencil, deep in thought when she heard the crash. Looking up frantically, she called for Jason knowing, somehow, that her son had been the cause.

"I'm okay Mom." he yelled back from several desks away. Lois sighed and went back to work, wondering aloud how many 'j's were in 'digital'.

Ten minutes later, Lois' writing was interrupted by a strange thumping sound. She, like everyone else around, leaned back in her chair and craned her neck to see what was making the noise. Jason's soft brown hair quickly came into view over the top of the desks as he made his way to his mom. Clomp, clomp, clomp. Lois realized that it was coming from Jason as he moved closer. When he finally came to a stop, whatever she had been on the verge of saying died on her lips and her mouth formed a small 'O' in surprise.

Richard stopped behind her and just stared at his son. "Jason! What on Earth do you have on your feet?!" At Richard's exclamation, everyone in earshot turned and looked at the little boy standing in the middle of the bullpen and promptly started laughing. His feet were encased in what could only be described as boats. He was tramping around in a pair of brown shoes that completely enveloped his feet and calves and were easily as long as his arm.

Jason's ears turned bright red as he realized everyone was staring at him.

"Where did you get those, young man?" Lois struggled to keep her voice even when all she wanted to do was lean against Richard and dissolve into helpless peals of laughter.

Jason pointed across the bullpen, "I found them over there, Mom."

"What did I tell you about getting into other people's things?" As long as she looked at her son's face and not his feet, she was able to keep a straight face.

"But the box was already knocked over and I found these on the floor and can I keep them? They're so cool!" Jason's babbling was oddly reminiscent of his mother.

"Whoa! Slow down there buddy." Richard walked over to his son and squatted until he was eye level. "Why don't you show me where you found the shoes? We'll put them back and hopefully the person won't be mad that you wore them."

"Okay Daddy!" Jason jumped out of the shoes and began skipping across the bullpen, trying to whistle some song he had learned at school.

Lois and Richard each grabbed a shoe and followed Jason as he led them to the box. "These are huge!" Lois exclaimed as she turned the brown oxford over in her tiny hands. "I wonder what size they are."

The bullpen reluctantly got back to work as the editor-in-chief stalked through the office, glaring at everyone. Even so, they kept an eye out for the latest, unfolding White-Lane family drama.

"Here it is!" Jason stopped and pointed to a box that was nearly as tall as he. The lid was wide open and several shoeboxes poked out next to the one that Jason had opened. Lois picked up the empty shoebox to put away the shoes when her insatiable curiosity got the better of her. She turned the box around and her eyes opened almost comically wide as she read the label. She whistled under her breath, which made Richard look up at her from his vantage point on the floor where he was setting the large box upright.

"These are 16EE." She exclaimed.

"What?! They're how big?" At Richard's statement, a dozen pairs of eyes focused in their direction none too discreetly.

Oblivious to their audience, Lois continued on, "16EE. I didn't know that they made shoes that big!"

Richard looked thoughtful, "Well basketball players have feet that big, so they have to make them. I've just never seen a pair in person." He picked up a shoe and looked at it in undisguised awe.

Cat Grant, author of the Daily Planet's society column, leaned over the top of the desk, displaying her ample assets in a low-cut blouse, and waggled her eyebrows suggestively. "You know what they say about guys with big feet, right?"

Lois blushed prettily and giggled, "Ohhh yeah."

Richard looked at her sideways, slightly alarmed, until Jason tugged on his sleeve. "What do they say about big feet Daddy? Your feet aren't that big", he exclaimed while pointing at the shoe in his father's hands. Everyone snickered at Richard's expense as his ears turned red and he spluttered, trying to respond to his son's innocent comment.

A temp in the back of the now sizeable crowd called out "Well? Who do they belong to? We're all dying to know!"

Cat added, "More importantly, is he single and does he have Friday night free?" She craned her neck to see if she could spot the owner of the shoes.

"I call dibs!" another female voice piped up amid the laughter that had erupted at Cat's antics. The guys in the crowd just rolled their eyes and more than one muttered how lucky this guy had to be.

The good-natured bantering between the ladies in the crowd came to an abrupt halt at Lois' strangled gasp. Richard glanced up at her from his kneeling position on the floor just in time to see all of the color drain from her face.

"Are you okay Mommy?" Jason wriggled away from his father and waved his hand in front of her face like he'd seen his dad do hundreds of times.

"Lois?" Even Cat Grant was getting a little worried at the lack of animation from Lois. Never had she seen Lois sit so still before while doing a perfect impression of a fish out of water with her jaw working itself up and down. She would have laughed if not for the blank stare.

"Honey? What's wrong?" Richard prompted as he snapped his fingers near her ear. That had the desired effect as Lois' eyes darted from the box to Richard's face.

"Oh. My. God." She whispered hoarsely. Everyone subconsciously leaned forward to catch her next words. "Clark." She murmured, "These are Clark's." She spoke a little louder as her face flushed a deep pink, which did not go unnoticed by Richard.

Cat spoke up again, "You mean that those humongous things belong to Kent? Nerdy, hack-from-nowheresville, Mr. I-Can't- Stop-Stuttering-to-Save-My-Life, Clark Kent?"

Lois nodded, "Yeah."

Cat responded with a low whistle, "Wow. I didn't think country-boy had it in him."

Richard glanced, alarmed, at the gossip columnist before he began packing away shoes and boxes. The crowd hadn't dissipated; if anything, the buzzing of excited voices had grown to a feverish pitch now that the owner of the infamous shoes had been identified.

The crowd suddenly quieted, and a panicked look crossed Lois' features, as another, painfully cheery voice made itself heard.

"Hi guys! What's going on?"

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Clark stepped off the elevator to a vague sense of unease. The bullpen was quiet; too quiet for being an hour before the afternoon deadline, with many reporters absent from their desks. He looked around, quickly spotting the missing journalists gathered in a crowd at the far end of the bullpen near his desk. _Too close to my desk to be anything good. _ The thought flitted unbidden through his head.

The uneasiness increased ten-fold as he gingerly made his way over to the crowd, stumbling only slightly on Jason's backpack as he passed Lois' desk. Normally, he would have contented himself with eavesdropping from a distance to gauge the situation before he jumped in, but it had been a long and trying few days as far as Superman was concerned. His head twinged with the beginning of a mild headache and he wished yet again that aspirin had some sort of effect on him. Taking pity on his head and his ears, he started toward his desk.

As Clark neared the edge of the group, he noticed (with a mental roll of his eyes), that Lois was the center of attention as usual. However, she was unusually quiet as she stared at the box on the floor, her mouth opening and closing as she tried to overcome speechlessness. The crowd hadn't noticed him yet and he caught snippets of conversations with the words 'feet', 'Lois', 'huge', 'Richard' and 'Jason' featured prevalently along with his own name. More slowly than he would have liked to admit, he put two and two together and realized that his package must have been delivered. Sure enough, it was propped up against the side of his desk, wide open while Richard stuffed the shoeboxes back into it.

He cleared his throat- which seemed to echo to his sensitive ears. The people milling about seemed not to notice however. Clark went for a more direct approach then; he made sure his hands were in his pockets and that he was appropriately hunched over (well within his dorky office façade), before calling out, "Hi guys! What's going on?" He would have laughed at everyone's reaction as they were startled into silence if he hadn't been slightly creeped out by the whole situation.

All eyes suddenly snapped towards him and the whispering and pointing began in earnest. Clark was used to being the butt of the bullpen jokes, so he studiously ignored the crowd and focused instead on Lois. "Lois? What's going on?"

Lois gasped and just stared at him; if he didn't know better he would have sworn that she was checking him out. The sight of her sitting her skirt with pooled around her, piercing him with that 'look', spread pleasant warmth throughout his belly. _Down Boy!_ he admonished himself. _Remember, _s_he's with Richard now._'

Richard saved Lois from speaking as he stood up and pulled her to her feet. He explained hastily, "Well, I guess Jason found your box and managed to get a pair of shoes loose. He was running around wearing them- anyways, Lois and I were just putting them away for you."

"Mr. Clark! Mr. Clark!" Jason bounded up to his unknown father and yanked on his hand to bring him to eye level. Clark kneeled next to Jason; a pang of sadness lanced through him and his chest tightened almost painfully as he watched his child chatter happily. He snapped out of his reverie in time to hear Jason's last question. "Did you know what they say about guys with big feet, Mr. Clark?"

Whatever he was expecting his son to say, that was not it. He stuttered none too gracefully as his eyebrows disappeared into his hairline. "Umm. Uhh." His mind raced to come up with a suitable answer.

Clark stood quickly and was spared from answering when a horrified looking Lois cried "Jason! I can't believe you just said that!"

"What's wrong Mommy? Mrs. Cat said it." Jason looked up at his mother, confused.

Lois looked at her son and spoke to him in a low voice, "Honey, just because someone says something does not mean that you can repeat it. Understand?"

"I understand Mommy." Jason looked up at Clark, "When can I have big feet like you, Mr. Clark?" Snickers erupted as everyone's gaze drifted involuntarily to Clark's feet. He drew even more attention to himself as he nervously shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

Lois suddenly blurted, "Your feet don't look that big." She clapped her hands over her mouth as soon as the comment tumbled out, looking absolutely mortified.

"They aren't." As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Clark wanted to kick himself. He couldn't very well tell her that he only wore a fourteen but that he purposely bought his shoes two sizes too big so that he could fit his famous red boots into them.

"They don't look as big when they're on his feet because you see them in context." Perry White's gruff voice carried as the crowd parted for him like the Red Sea for Moses.

"Huh?" His two star reporters and his nephew were looking at him as if he had grown a third head.

Perry looked Clark over and stated matter-of-factly, "You're so tall- it makes the shoes seem smaller than they really are." At the enlightened look on their faces, he nodded once, then turned around and roared, "Get back to work! All of you! Does it look like tea time at Buckingham Palace!? We have a deadline!"

The Daily Planet staff scrambled and tripped over themselves to get to their respective places with the exception of Richard, Lois, Jason and Clark.

"Huh. I never noticed how tall you are, Clark. You're almost as tall as…" Lois had a thoughtful look on her face as she scrutinized Clark. He began to panic, _Did she guess? Does she know my secret? Why doesn't she say something?_

"Nah. Couldn't be." She continued talking to herself, "I must be going crazy with lack of sleep." Lois picked up Jason and turned to Clark and apologized for Jason's earlier antics.

Clark noticed that she kept her gaze squarely on his chest the entire time, studiously avoiding looking anywhere else. Her eyes darted to his face once and then his feet. She looked away just as quickly as her face flushed a dark pink. Clark could hear her heartbeat pounding in his ears and before he could wonder about her strange behavior or even accept her apology, she was gone. Richard offered Clark a weak smile before retreating after Lois' disappearing figure.

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Clark sighed as he folded the top of the box and tried to remember if there was room in the storage closet. _I really need to find an apartment. I wonder if Jimmy would help me._ He picked up the box, making quite a show of it for the benefit of his co-workers, and moved it into the closet, tripping only once on the way.

As he worked to fit the box in the closet, he mused to himself. _Somedays more than others, I'm really glad that my office persona is such a klutz. Although,_ he chuckled lightly, _if anyone knew that the tripping wasn't really an act, they'd send their hero to have his head checked._

After cramming the giant box into the Planet's storage room, Clark dusted the microscopic particles only he could see off of his shabby, three-piece suit and left to ask Jimmy about a place to live. As he made his way across the bullpen, Clark caught himself on a filing cabinet after he tripped on seemingly nothing. _Wow, I just tripped on my own feet._ He smiled at the image. _They should make an Olympic sport out of walking in two pairs of shoes. It is a lot harder than it looks._

The End

Or is it…..


	3. It's a Relief

**Disclaimer: I do not own Superman or any of the characters… I just have fun with them. **

**For those readers who asked for a sequel to Chapter 1 (you know who you are), I give you Chapter 3 of ****The Logistics of Superman****- "It's a Relief…"**

**Side note:** I took a few liberties with the different Superman canons. This fic is set in the 'Superman Returns' universe however I liked a few ideas from 'Lois & Clark: The New Adventures of Superman'. Primary among these is the idea that Martha made Superman's first suit; the suit was then later replicated by the Fortress of Solitude in a more durable form, proofed from just about everything (bullets, fire, snot, etc.).

My supporting argument: if Kal-El was suited in traditional Kryptonian attire (according to 'Superman: The Movie'), he would be wearing a loose-fitting turtleneck, military-style pants and combat boots, all in either black or luminescent white. Not to mention a floor length, long-sleeved coat made of the same material. That's a pretty far cry from the skin-tight, blue/red/yellow, caped suit the Fortress puts him in before he goes to work for the Daily Planet. Ergo, a non-Kryptonian must have made the original suit.

I also assume that Superman does not have an aura; instead, I assume that the Fortress must have subjected the suit to the same type of radiation prevalent in 'Superman II' to make it everything-proof.

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"Hi Mom!" Clark Kent spoke into the handset of the pay phone outside the Daily Planet. "How are things in Montana? Uh huh. Oh, ok. When is that? Would you mind if I stopped by for a visit then? I need to talk to you about something personal and I don't want to discuss it in front of a crowd. No, I can't move in until next week. Ok, I'll see you tomorrow night at six. Say hi to Ben for me. Ok. Love you too. Bye." Clark hung up the phone and sighed loudly before gingerly climbing the stairs to the Planet building. He had gotten this new pair of shoes before the weekend and he hadn't had a chance to break them in to his 'special' needs just yet.

Balancing a coffee and newspaper in one hand and his briefcase in the other, Clark entered the building only to stop short as he got stuck in the Planet's revolving door. He tried to get someone's attention, but there was no one nearby. Sighing, he shifted his coffee and his briefcase to his right hand and tucked the newspaper under his chin, before pressing against the glass with his free hand. Unfortunately, Clark couldn't seem to find purchase on the slick tile floor in his new shoes; as soon as he pushed on the door, his feet slipped out from under him.

The entire lobby turned to look at the source of the loud "Thunk!" as Clark's head collided with the bulletproof glass and splintered it into a pretty spiderweb pattern. It had the desired effect though and the doors began to move, depositing him unceremoniously onto the lobby floor.

"Oh my God! Clark!" Lois rushed over from her place in line for the elevator. "Are you okay?" Clark made a show of getting to his feet rather ungracefully. When she grabbed his elbow to help him up, Lois couldn't stifle a giggle. "Oh, Clark. Your suit." She pointed. Clark followed her gesture to his chest where coffee dripped from his tie and jacket and he sighed in defeat.

Lois patted his arm sympathetically and retrieved his sopping newspaper from the floor. "At least the janitors won't have to…" She trailed off as her gaze took in the revolving door with the shattered pane of glass. "Oh my God! You're hurt!" Lois rapidly descended into 'mommy-mode' and pushed Clark (who was easily nine inches taller) into a lobby chair. She began examining him for injuries, starting with his head. When she didn't find blood, Lois tipped his head one way, then the other and had him follow her finger with his eyes. She sighed in visible relief, "I don't think you've got a concussion- I don't see or feel any bumps, but you should see a doctor anyway. That was bulletproof glass. I wonder why it shattered like that? Just how hard is your head anyway?" she teased.

_Harder than the marble you're standing on Lois, _he thought. Secretly, Clark enjoyed the attention. Pushing his glasses up, Clark replied aloud "Uh, w-well, maybe it isn't b-bulletproof." He inwardly sighed in relief when sparks of indignant anger flickered in Lois' eyes as she latched on to his statement.

"It figures. They're always out to save a buck! They don't even care if anyone gets hurt because they decide to cut some damn corners!" Her hands flailed and her voice began to steadily rise in volume until several people began looking in their direction.

"Uh, Lois? Who's 'they'?"

"You know! 'They'! The stupid contractors the Planet hired to do the remodel after the earthquake. This isn't the first thing that's broken. Just the other day, Jason put his foot through the wall in the break room!"

Clark stifled a snort at the mental image of his son hopping on one foot, with the other firmly encased in drywall. He wondered if that situation had been brought about, not by substandard materials as Lois claimed, but by Jason's sporadic super-strength. He couldn't ask her; Clark Kent wouldn't know about Jason's parentage. "H-he's okay though, right?"

"Oh yeah, he's fine. Ugh. It makes me sick thinking of all the money they're pocketing." She stamped her foot in frustration. "I'm going to cover this in my next editorial. It has to be stopped!" The elevator dinged; Lois brushed her hair out of her eyes as she bustled towards it. "You coming?"

"Uh." Clark's head swam at her sudden change in demeanor as he stood and hurried after 'Hurricane Lane', snagging a few napkins to blot his tie. _That's Lois for you_, he thought. _Concerned mother one minute and rabid reporter in the next_. He looked down at her and took a moment to admire his Lois. _She's not yours, Idiot. You lost any right to her and her son (your son) when you left on that god-forsaken, fool's errand to Krypton._ A sad smile graced his features as he thought of everything he had missed during the five years he had been gone.

"Hey Smallville, did you get hit with the memory stick or something? You seem, I dunno, not quite here." Lois craned her neck up at him.

"I'm fine Lois. I was just thinking." Clark replied.

"Well, duh! Of course you were thinking! What were you thinking about?" He was sure Lois didn't mean to pry- it was just her inquisitive nature getting the best of her. _Besides, _he thought sadly, _what would her happy-go-lucky partner have to be solemn about?_

"Just… thinking." Enigmatically, Clark turned to face the front of the elevator, signaling the end of that conversation. "Say, how's the research coming for that piece on Senator Wilcox?" That had the desired effect as Lois forgot about his reticence and started ranting and raving about the lack of decent researchers at the Planet and having to do everything herself. Clark smiled, only half-listening to her diatribe as the elevator deposited them at the newsroom.

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Thirty-six hours later found Superman hurtling through the skies above Metropolis, heading west. He detoured over the Great Lakes, enjoying the view and quickly saving a motorboat from capsizing. Minutes later, he found himself hovering over his mother's new home just outside of Big Timber, Montana.

"Mom? Hello?" Clark's voice echoed through the house. Boxes littered the hallways where the contents were being methodically sorted and put away. He moved silently through the house, taking note of the little things Martha had brought from Kansas. Her piano lounged in the corner; the pictures on top caught his eye. He picked up a framed photo of him with his parents, taken the Christmas before his dad died. Clark's chest constricted tightly for a moment, as it usually did when he thought of his adoptive father. Sighing, Clark replaced the frame and moved over to the wall behind the television. More framed photos were artfully scattered across the expanse of plaster.

_Mom's been here,_ Clark thought. He noticed that pictures of him in his youth were interspersed with candids of Ben's two children. They were several years older; he had never been close to them, even in school. There were photos of them, their families and even a recent family reunion photo with Ben at the center, surrounded by his children and grandchildren. This subtle reminder that he could never give his mother those kinds of pictures sent a pang through Clark's heart and he had to swallow hard around the sudden lump in his throat. He knew that his mother didn't mind, but it still made it hard when, by all rights, she should have grandchildren. _At least grandchildren she can acknowledge openly, _he thought sadly as he picked up a photo he had not seen before. It was definitely Jimmy's work- the smiling subjects were Clark and Jason.

Clark smiled as he remembered that day vividly. Lois and Richard had a lunch appointment and asked if he would watch Jason. Of course, he had agreed, and the rest of the afternoon was spent in silly hijinks once Jason's homework was done. Jason was seated on Clark's broad shoulders holding on to a Daily Planet shaped balloon. He had just helped Jason rescue the balloon from the ceiling in Richard's office when Jimmy snapped the picture. Clark had the biggest, goofiest grin on his face as Jason linked his hands around Clark's forehead to steady himself. "Now how did Mom get a hold of this one?" He wondered aloud.

"Oh, Jimmy gave that to me on my last visit to Metropolis." Clark spun to face his mother, startled that he hadn't heard her approach. "We were discussing photo albums while waiting for you and I mentioned that I don't have nearly enough photos of you for an album." She paused, "well at least pictures of you when you're not in the Suit."

Clark shook his head and chuckled. "God knows there is no shortage of those."

"Hello Son." Martha Kent placed both hands on his cheeks and brushed a quick kiss against his forehead, before enveloping him in a hug that would have crushed his ribs if he had been human. "Oh, I've missed you!" She mumbled into his shirt front.

"I've missed you too, Mom." Clark's arms came up and folded her into a fierce, protective embrace.

Martha pulled away after a minute and bustled Clark into the kitchen. "Sit down. I've made tea and there are cookies on the table." Clark bit into a cookie as Martha poured tea and joined him at the table. "How are you doing dear?" Martha's clear, blue eyes regarded her son carefully over the rim of her teacup.

"Well, it's been a trying few weeks. I wasn't able to find an apartment until two days ago, but I can't move in until next week. It's being remodeled after the earthquake." He added quickly, seeing the question on her face.

"What about work? How are things with Lois and Jason?"

Clark sighed and his shoulders drooped. "It's complicated. I do love her. I love them both more than I ever though possible." His voice perked up, "Now that its summertime, Jason is in the bullpen nearly every day. Lois leaves him at my desk if she and Richard have to be someplace."

"Oh, Clark. When will you tell her? She deserves to know who the father of her child is and you deserve to have your son in your life. None of this 'baby-sitting at work' stuff."

"It's just not that easy…" Clark trailed off, staring into his mug as if it held the answers to the universe.

Martha's hand covered Clark's as she whispered, "Life isn't easy." Her voice grew a little louder. "Look at everything your father and I did to start a family: our trials and sacrifices. Finally our own little miracle fell from the sky after so many years of heartache. You have a son- there are so many people in this world that would die to have one and you don't want anything to do with him."

"That's not true!" Clark's head snapped up, his blue eyes flashing dangerously until he noticed that his mother had been goading him. He smiled ruefully, "I love him. I want to claim him as my son, more than anything. But our situation is so complicated."

"Talk to Lois, sweetie. I'm sure you'll figure something out." Martha patted her son on the back sympathetically. "Now, I'm pretty sure you didn't fly all the way here to get an earful from your mother. What's up?"

Clark sighed. _This is going to be a lot harder than I thought._ His request died in his throat when he met his mother's open gaze.

"Come on sweetie. Spit it out. At the rate you're going, Benn will be back from the farm show tomorrow night before you ask me whatever is was that you came here to ask me."

That did it. Clark chuckled lightly, finished his tea and faced his mother fully. "I'd like to put a zipper in the Suit."

Martha coughed as she nearly spit her tea all over the table. Hiding her grin behind her teacup, she asked innocently, "Whatever for, dear?"

"Moooom! You know what for!" Clark blushed furiously.

"No, I don't. I can't read minds. They missed that one in all of the parenting classes." Martha was still trying to hide her laughter in her tea.

Clark stared at his mother incredulously. _When did she get so… so… snarky?_ He thought. "You're trying to punish me for the whole Jason thing, aren't you?"

"No honey, I'm not. There are a lot of places I can put a zipper. It's a big suit." She smirked.

"You're enjoying this too much, Mom." He growled unconvincingly. Martha just raised her eyebrow in response. "It's so I can go to the bathroom more easily." He mumbled, his cheeks turning pink with embarrassment.

"What sweetie? I couldn't hear that." Martha was obviously having fun at the expense of her son, who was not amused.

"I want to be able to pee without having to strip half-naked in a public restroom!" Clark declared.

"Was that so hard? Now," she patted his cheek and held out her hand. "I'll need the Suit."

Clark sped into one of the bedrooms down the hall and returned just as quickly, giving the still-warm suit to his mother. He beat down another blush when she flipped it over and began inspecting the crotch in earnest. "I don't get why your parents, or at least the artificial intelligence of your parents, couldn't replicate this thing after your original suit. That one had three pieces. This is ridiculous." She held up the suit, which was several times bigger than she was and all one piece. "Oh dear, I can see how this would be uncomfortable." Deftly, she flipped it inside out and tut-tutted under her breath. "Well it shouldn't be too hard to fix this now that I've got those special items from your friend in Gotham. It's almost too easy to repair the suit now. Although, I can never quite figure out how you always manage to tear the cape at that one shoulder…"

"Just do whatever you think is best, Mom." Clark replied.

"Ok, honey. You know the drill- head out to the barn while I get my sewing machine out."

Clark got up and went outside hoping that no major disasters occurred while he was suit-less. He began doing menial tasks around the barn at normal speed knowing that his mother would call for him when she was ready.

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"Clark! You can come inside now!" Martha hollered into the dark yard.

"Geez! Not so loud Mom. I'm right here." She jumped at Clark's voice behind her on the porch. She spun to face him, her finger waggling. "Haven't I told you not to sneak up on me?! You almost gave me a heart condition, young man."

"Sorry." With his hands clasped behind his back and his head bowed, dragging the toe of his boot across the porch, Martha had a flashback of Clark, five years old, getting scolded for stealing cookies.

"Come in. I need you to try on the Suit." Clark followed her into the house, still looking abashed for her earlier scare. Martha paused when she no longer heard his footsteps behind her. She looked back at her son, stopped in the doorway. "Mom? Did you put away the needles?"

"Yes I did dear and the scissors too. They are safely locked away in that little lead box your friend gave us. He is such a nice man." _And so handsome too!_ She thought. _Better not let Clark hear that. I may be old, but I'm not dead._

Her son cleared his throat, "I'll be sure to tell Bruce that next time I see him. The new Kryptonite-tipped needles did work, right?"

"Oh, like a charm!" Clark joined Martha on the sofa, staring at the suit stretched out on the coffee table. "I did the best I could with what I had, I didn't have time to run into town. Unfortunately, the thread kept breaking. I finally had to get the 100 lb test line out of Ben's tackle box."

"Is the zipper long enough?" She watched, amused, as her son touched the suit and the zipper. The zipper stretched the length of the briefs from the crotch all the way to the yellow belt. Martha stifled a giggle at the incredulous look on Clark's face. _I think he's in shock. Oh well, too late now. _"I didn't have the exact color. I hoped that the burgundy metal zipper would be the least noticeable."

Excusing himself, Clark took the Suit into the guest bedroom to try it on. While he was gone, Martha tidied up a bit, straightening magazines and books and putting away the sewing machine. She tried to give him a few minutes of privacy before she barged in.

"Clark!" Martha knocked on the door. "Is everything ok?"

"Oh, yeah! Sorry. You can come in Mom." She poked her head around the door to find Clark, posturing in front of the mirror in his newly-altered Suit.

She clapped her hands together, "Oh it looks good! That burgundy blends right in. It's hardly noticeable. I'm so happy it worked"

"I had no doubts, Mom. You always manage to make everything look easy." He kissed the top of her head. "Now, to make my debut!" At her quizzical look, he explained, "There's a hold up at the First Bank of Denver. I should go."

"Ok honey. Be careful!" She followed him to the door and gave him one last hug. "Call me and keep me updated on everything." Martha knew that, from the look in her eyes, Clark had surmised that by 'everything', she meant 'everything Jason'.

The sonic boom rattled the ancient weathervane on top of the barn as he rocketed towards Colorado.

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"Tell me people. Why is it that we are the greatest newspaper in the country, if not the world, and yet we still manage to get scooped by a worthless supermarket stand rag?!?" Perry White's voice thundered across the conference room during the morning staff meeting as he waved a copy of 'The National Whisper' so viciously that no one was able to read the headline. He snapped the paper flat and pointed at a full-color photo spread of Superman. The headline blared, 'Man of Steel Zippers?' followed by a more subdued 'Superman spotted in Colorado sporting a new suit!'

Perry stood at the front of the room and looked pointedly at his reporters. They had the foresight to look abashed in the wake of his unwavering gaze. His voice lowered to a menacing rumble, "This will not happen again." The staff was quick to nod their heads in unison. "Okay. Now that that's settled, we can do damage control." Perry assigned different aspects of the event to the various sections before focusing on Lois, who was chatting animatedly, yet quietly, with a chuckling Clark Kent. "Is there something you'd like to share, Lane? Kent?"

Lois jumped, "Uh, no Chief. Sorry." Clark shook his head, emphatically agreeing with his partner.

"Don't call me Chief!" He growled. "Meeting's over! Everyone get back to work!"

"Everyone, except you Lois." She paused, impatiently waiting for him to continue. "You're going to camp out on the roof until you get an interview with the man of the hour."

She balled her fists, resting them on her hips while jutting her chin forward determinedly as she prepared for war. "Now, wait just a minute Chief. Why do I have to…"

He quickly cut her off in mid-rant. "I don't know how you do it, but he'll stop for you. Every other newspaper has put a good-looking female reporter on their roof yet they continue to get nada while you bring in the whole enchilada every time."

Lois stared at the Planet's editor-in-chief for a long while before rolling her eyes and sighing in exasperation. "Fine, Chief." She waggled her finger at him, "But don't ever say that Lois Lane is not a team player." She snatched her notes up and stormed into the bullpen, scaring interns and photographers alike as the door slammed behind her.

Perry White just shook his head at her antics. _She is not for the faint of heart, that's for sure._ He watched her throw a small tantrum at her desk when she couldn't find her favorite pen. Several minutes later, after she'd therapeutically kicked her desk a few times, Lois was on her way to the elevator. She jabbed the 'Up' button so hard that Perry worried that he'd have to have it replaced.

The doors parted and she boarded, poking the button for the top floor as hard as she could as fast as possible while simultaneously kicking the wall a few times for good measure before the doors closed behind her. _Oh well, it'll be worth it. Buttons and walls can be fixed. _Perry White whistled quietly under his breath as he gathered his things and headed towards his office, mulling over possible headlines for Lois' interview as he walked.

Meanwhile, it was an unhappy Lois Lane that stepped out onto the roof of the Daily Planet ten minutes later, intent on getting that interview as soon as possible, even if she had to stand out there all day to get it.

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So? What did you think? Don't worry if this chapter has a bit more brevity than my norm- I promise the humor will pick up in the next installment. Keep your eyes peeled! I should have it posted soon. Reviews are always welcome.


	4. It's a Relief cont'd

**Disclaimer: I do not own Superman or any of the characters… I just have fun with them. My apologies up front if any of the characters seem too OOC, they kind of ran away from me. Oh yeah, don't sue me if you think the interview questions are lame. Dammit Jim! I'm a banker, not a reporter!**

**As I was proofing this chapter, I came to the realization that the Lois in my head (and in my story) is very much Margot Kidder-inspired. No one screams "Superman! Help!" quite like she does. **

**I give you Chapter 4 of ****The Logistics of Being Superman****- "…Or Not?"**

**Side note:**I am looking for a beta/ sounding board for a fic I'm working on (it is still in the very rough stages). It will be AU, fairly angsty and will have mature themes. Drop me a line if you're interested. Thanks!

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Richard White sat back in his chair, lacing his fingers behind his head, and sighed. _Finally done!_ Taking a break, he let his gaze wander over to the desks outside of his office. A grin threatened to split his face in half when he noticed that Lois had brought Jason in to work after his morning summer camp. _I wonder why he didn't come in to say hi? _He answered his own question when he noticed that his door was firmly shut against the commotion that was the bullpen before the afternoon deadline. He and the rest of the office had an unspoken agreement: a closed door means no interruptions outside of work-related topics.

He glanced back to his screen, saved the file and sent it down to the copy room. Richard winced when his joints creaked as he stretched. _I'm getting old._ The thought of his impending birthday flit unbidden through his mind, _I wonder what Lois is up to? Jason hasn't mentioned any party-planning._ He chuckled as he remembered pumping his son for information last year; it was supposed to have been a surprise party. _Nothing is a surprise when you have a five-year-old in a house with two full-time reporters._ He figured that Lois had either learned her lesson last year and was skipping the party this year or she deliberately cut Jason out of the loop. _Knowing Lois, it's the latter._ _Hmm. I wonder if Kent knows what's going on._

Jason's little, brown-haired head shot up from his coloring at the sound of the office door opening, "Daddy!" he squealed and launched himself into Richard's waiting arms.

"Hey Squirt!" He kissed his son's cheek. "Where's your mother?" Richard looked across the bullpen for Lois.

"She's on the roof!" Jason exclaimed happily, pointing at the ceiling.

"What's she doing on the roof?" At Jason's disbelieving look, he amended his statement, "Oh yeah, Superman. How could I forget? How did you get here then?"

"Mr. Jimmy picked me up! We got hot dogs! I like hot dogs now, Daddy. Can we have them for dinner?" Ignoring Richard's impending response, he squirmed so that he could get put down. Jason ran over to his mother's desk, pulling his father along with surprising strength. Richard didn't know what to think of that or the fact that Jason's food allergies seemed to be miraculously disappearing. Dr. Fox, the specialist Lois had flown in from Gotham, had assured them that this was all a normal part of growing up. Richard had his doubts as he rubbed his sore fingers.

Jason thrust a stack of paper at his father. "What's this?" Richard asked as he flipped through Jason's new drawings, appropriately 'Oohing' and 'Aahing' over his son's artistic ability.

"They're drawlings, silly!"

"Draw-ings." Richard unconsciously corrected Jason as one crayoned masterpiece caught his attention.

Jason huffed indignantly, blue eyes narrowed, while crossing his arms across his chest and looking dangerously like his mother. "That's what I said! Draw-lings!"

Attempting to diffuse the imminent pout, Richard held up the drawing, "Jason? What's this?"

"That's Superman, silly! And Mommy too. They're on the roof!" Jason exclaimed, looking at his dad like he was crazy.

_Maybe I am crazy. _Richard mused. "But what's this?" He pointed at Superman, namely his midsection.

"Oh that. That's his…" Jason didn't a chance to finish his statement as recognition and dawned upon Richard's face in quick succession and he clapped his hand over his son's mouth. Jason continued to talk around Richard's hand, which came out as gibberish.

An older woman sitting at the desk behind them laughed and quipped, "Out of the mouths of babes, Richard. Out of the mouths of babes."

Richard smiled grimly at the woman as he addressed his son, "Jason, lets go into Daddy's office for a minute, okay?" Jason wiggled free and skipped over to the door, the heels on his Batman sneakers flashing with every step; Richard followed closely with Jason's drawing in hand.

The door swung shut on the woman's laughter as Richard took a minute to lecture Jason about human anatomy and what was appropriate to draw and what wasn't. "But Daaaddy! I know that already! Mommy already told me!"

"Then what is this?" Richard kept his face stern as he pointed at the picture in question.

"You didn't let me finish before! That's his zipper!" Jason stated, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"His… zipper?" Richard's embarrassment seemed to return ten-fold as he thought of his gross misinterpretation of Jason's drawing. "Of course that's his zipper." Richard rubbed his face and sighed inwardly as he told Jason to go get his things together; they were going to the zoo. The little boy didn't need to be told twice; he practically flew to his mother's desk. Richard followed shortly; he'd left the ambiguous drawing in his office. "You all ready to go?"

"Yeah!" Jason jumped up and down. "I want to see the monkeys!"

"Sure thing, Sport. I just have to use the restroom before we go." Richard tousled his son's hair. "Do you need to go, Jason?"

"No, I'm okay Daddy." He swiveled in the chair, pretending like he was flying.

"Okay. Sit tight, I'll be right back." Richard bobbed and weaved his way around desks and people on his way to the men's room.

Two of the three urinals were already occupied when Richard ducked in to the restroom. He quickly claimed the only available one to Clark Kent's left. _Glad I don't have to be in the middle._

Clark looked over slightly, his blue eyes wide behind his dorky glasses and cleared his throat, "Uh, hi?"

Richard nodded and responded tersely, "Hi." He didn't know how guys in Kansas peed, but in Metropolis you certainly did not talk to your neighbor.

Apparently though, it seemed that no one had told Clark that. "So… Uh… awesome game last night, huh?"

"Yup." Richard ground out, hoping that Clark would get the hint and quit talking. It was hard enough relieving yourself with someone standing next to you, but when that person insisted on talking, peeing became downright impossible. Jimmy Olsen wisely remained quiet on the other side of Clark.

"Nice weather we're having. It's supposed to warm up considerably this weekend." Clark's voice seemed to echo in the bathroom.

Richard gritted his teeth and focused his gaze straight ahead, ignoring Clark; he opted, instead, to count the cracks in the tile grout while he went about his business. _Fifteen… sixteen… seventeen… I wonder what Lois got me for my birthday…_

Clark seemed to finally get the hint and fell silent. He quickly finished first and adjusted himself, before he turned to wash his hands.

_What the..? Did I just hear what I thought I heard? _Slightly alarmed, Richard glanced over his shoulder at Clark's tall frame bent over the sink before looking at Jimmy who just shrugged his shoulders and went back to staring at the wall with wide eyes. _Did I just hear two zippers? I don't even want to know; it's none of my business. _Richard paled as he unintentionally pictured Clark Kent walking around in black, studded leather. _Oh God. It was just the echo in here… It was just the echo…_

"See ya later guys!" The door clicked shut behind Clark. Richard shook his head in disbelief that one guy could be so perpetually… cheery. And dorky. _Kent can be so weird sometimes. Wait a minute- have I even seen him in the bathroom before? _He tried to push all thoughts of Kent and his kinky fetishes from his head, as he finished and picked up Jason at Lois' desk for their trip to the zoo.

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Clark leaned back in his chair with his fingers laced behind his head, a huge grin making his regal features less prevalent. Anyone looking at him would have sworn he'd just won the lottery. _Who would have thought that using a urinal could feel so… freeing?_ It was his first time with the new Suit on and it felt wonderful.

He had been a little worried when he had to fasten both zippers, but Richard and Jimmy hadn't seemed to notice anything unusual. He'd taken great pains to seem nonchalant about everything, right down to his inane conversation. However, from the look on Richard's face and the fact that his heart rate had skyrocketed, he'd done something wrong. Thinking back, he tried to pinpoint the exact time that Richard had become uncomfortable. _I know I haven't used a urinal in five years but have things changed that much? _Stuck and unable to come up with anything, Clark made a mental note to stop by Gotham sometime and ask Bruce about current urinal etiquette. _There's something I'm missing here…_

_Speaking of something missing… _Clark scratched his head. _ I'm forgetting something. What am I forgetting? _"Oh, Geez! Lois!"

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Lois Lane stalked from one end of the Daily Planet's rooftop to the other, her discount designer heels clicking sharply against the asphalt. She had just finished her second cigarette of the morning and was now desperately wishing that she had remembered to bring her coffee with her. Lois dug her cell out of her purse and had halfway dialed Richard before she remembered belatedly that he had taken Jason to the zoo. _So much for my caffeine fix,_ she thought unhappily.

"Oooh! Clark!" Lois quickly dialed the Planet's switchboard from memory and asked for her partner. She hung up when his voice mail cheerfully announced that he was away from his desk and that she should leave a message after the beep. "Damn! At the rate I'm going, I'll never get my coffee." She muttered as she attempted to light her third cigarette.

The flame was extinguished quickly and a Styrofoam cup full of… "Coffee?" appeared miraculously in front of her. "How did you know?" His preternaturally blue eyes twinkled in mischief. "Oh. Stupid question. You'd think that, by now, I'd know better than to talk about anything aloud within hearing distance of you."

"It doesn't matter. I can hear you pretty much anywhere in the world." She marveled at how his low, smooth baritone washed over all of her senses, turning her insides to jelly even after all these years.

Lois barely had time to register the fact that she found his quiet admission endearing (if she'd heard it from any other man, she'd slap him with a restraining order faster than a speeding bullet), before she opened her big mouth again. "Don't think this means you're forgiven. You owe me a lot more than interviews and a few cups of coffee." She waved the drink under his nose, before attempting to take a long, calming draught. _I will not fall victim to his charms again. I will not fall victim to his charms again…_ she took up the mantra in her head like a lifeline.

"Uh, Miss Lane? That's really hot…" Lois looked at Superman, stricken that he would keep her from coffee nirvana. "Here, let me." He bent over her cup and gently blew on it. At his go-ahead, she greedily sucked down the entire cup. Superman let out a low whistle, "Wow. Did you even taste that?"

The glare she threw at him would have caused a lesser man to wither. She chucked the empty cup at his chest, the Styrofoam crackling as it bounced, first off of the famous crest, then the Daily Planet rooftop. "I don't suppose you seem to think that you'll get better coverage by bribing members of the press?" she smirked.

"I don't think so. I know so." The amusement in his voice was palpable as he bent to pick up the cup before it blew away. He super-sped over to the trashcan and back before Lois could even blink. "Did it work?" his eyes fairly glittered as he teased her lightly. _I will __not__ fall victim to his charms again… Damn he looks good… Is that what I think it is?_

"Doesn't it pinch?" The comment tumbled out of her mouth of its own volition as she pointed at his zipper.

Superman's perfectly shaped eyebrows hitched halfway to his hairline in surprise and he stared at her a moment before he eloquently replied, "Huh?"

Her gaze snapped back to his face and she was sure she turned seven shades of red in front of him when she realized what she'd said. _Thank God, he can't read minds. Okay Lane, shake it off. You can salvage this._ "I mean. Don't certain… things… get caught? I mean, it's a tight suit and…" she trailed off. _Aaaand why am I staring at his crotch again?_

Superman stared at her quietly. _Oh no, he knows where my thoughts are heading…_ "Well, Miss Lane. I am Superman you know." At Lois' patented 'Are you kidding me?' look, he amended, "I have my ways."

_Oooh, and I want to have my way with you… _Lois knew she was staring again; she tried to stop herself but the zipper accentuated that which had been the subject of several of her more lascivious daydreams, especially lately. _'All the parts of a man' indeed. _ _Oh God. Keep looking at his face, Lane. Ok, I'm supposed to be mad at him. Hide behind your anger- that's safe. Wait, why am I mad at him again? _

"I am going to kill Perry." She muttered manically under her breath as she dug through her cavernous purse, looking for her list of questions and her tape recorder. "Where the hell is it?" Lois fairly growled in frustration.

"At the bottom, under your cell phone." Superman supplied helpfully, ignoring her glare.

With a triumphant cry, Lois yanked her notes free but the recorder fell to the ground and bounced twice. "Ugh! This can't be happening!" She squatted as daintily as possible to pick up the device, tucking her skinny pencil skirt behind her knees as she did so, "Just great. It's broken. Now I'll have to write everything down." Lois tried to stand up but between her tight skirt and her tall shoes, it looked to be impossible. She visibly started when she noticed a large, soft palm extended to her. Lois let out a shaky breath; his hand was directly in the line of sight of his… _Hoo whee. Is it hot in here or is it me? _She blew her hair out of her face as she placed her tiny hand in his much larger one. Superman helped Lois to her feet; she placed her bag on the roof to free up her hands and used the opportunity to fan her face lightly.

Superman looked at her questioningly but didn't say anything, before he stared off at the city for a moment. "We should get to the questions, Miss Lane. I don't know how long it will be until I'm needed somewhere."

_I know exactly where Superman's needed…_ "Umm. Okay!" Her voice seemed bright and overdone, even to her own ears. "First question. When did you decide to 'alter' the Suit?"

"I've been thinking about it since I got the new suit five years ago." His low voice rumbled quietly.

"Five years ago? But this Suit is new, right? I haven't seen it before. I mean, I'd remember seeing it, I'm sure." Lois chewed thoughtfully on the end of her pen, her mismatched eyes staring into nothingness as she tried to remember. She shook her head sharply, "I give up. I can't even remember what your Suit looked like before you left. Is that a side-effect of whatever it was that you did to me?" Lois congratulated herself on making her tone seem only slightly accusatory.

Needlessly, Superman visibly flinched at her statement. He dropped the formalities and used her first name. "Lois. I…" he started quietly.

Before he could finish, she made another dig at him stating, in her most saccharine-sweet voice, "So, the 'new' Suit is actually an 'old' Suit?" She made quick notes. "Am I correct in assuming that you didn't have a chance to wear it before you left us all alone for five years?"

"Yes. Look Lois, I'm sorry. I…"

She raised her hand to cut him off once again as she used her anger and sarcasm to hide other, more dangerous, emotions. "Don't. Just don't. I don't need platitudes right now. I just need an interview." He nodded sadly, looking for all the world like a puppy afraid of getting kicked. _God, he looks just like Jason. Or is it that Jason looks like him? Why didn't I see it before? _Lois sighed loudly, dashing her hair out of her eyes with the back of her hand. _I wish I had tied it back. _She took a few therapeutic breaths, relaxing her shoulders and pasting a smile on her face, before continuing the interview. _I will__ not__ fall victim to his charms again. _"Next question! What reasons did you have for altering the Suit?" She scribbled in her notepad to avoid his clear, cobalt gaze.

Superman just blinked at her, bewildered by her abrupt change in topic and mood.

At Superman's silence, Lois glanced up at him. _Why does he have to make dumb expressions look so good?_ Her traitorous body paid no heed to her mantra from earlier. _And why couldn't the desire to jump him have left with the anger?_

"I'm sorry, Miss Lane. What was the question?" It seemed Superman had finally found his voice as well as his legendary politeness. The stricken look from earlier was gone.

"What reasons did you have for altering the Suit?" Lois was amused to notice that Superman was sporting a bright blush. _Geez, he even makes blushing look good. _Aloud she replied, "Red is such a nice color on you." Lois' hypersensitive body fairly quivered at his low groan. _Oh, that is NOT helping! Down girl!_

Superman seemingly ignored her comment. "Well, the reasons I had for altering the Suit are," Lois leaned forward in anticipation of his answer. "personal."

"What the heck kind of answer is that?!? 'Personal'?" She glared at him, her hands fisted on her hips.

"I don't want everyone in the world to know why I did this." He flushed even more scarlet, if that was possible.

_I'm pretty sure everyone in the world knows why you did that. However, Perry wants a quote. _"How about a compromise?" She voiced aloud. He nodded. "You tell me your reasons, and I'll promise to print them."

"That is not a compromise!" Superman shook his head mildly. "That's you getting your way."

"Well, fine then, if you don't tell me, then I'll have to make something up." She smirked. "Oh, I could have fun with this…"

"Alright! You win!" He sighed and she felt something wiggle deep in her belly… guilt? _Nah. I drank that coffee on an empty stomach. I should have asked for a bagel and lox too. _"I did it so I could 'go' easier."

"'Go'? You seemed to go just fine without the zipper." Lois replied, not really paying attention as she tried to jot down his comments before she forgot them.

"No! Not go. I meant 'go'." He put slight more emphasis on the word and gestured with his hands. "You know… 'go'?" _Wow. _She thought. _ I think his blush has become permanent. Red really is a good color on him. _

She mimed his hand movements. "Um. Sorry, no. I don't know 'go'."

"You're doing this to spite me, aren't you?" Superman sighed and rubbed his brow lightly. _Spite him? Why would I want to spite him? He only knocked me up and left for five years. _He gestured again. "Come on Lois. You know, 'go'?" He tried a different tactic. "You know, to 'seek relief'?"

"Ohhhhh! You mean you want to 'drain your lizard'." Lois scrawled some more, her nose buried in her notepad, "Can I quote you on that?"

He snapped his fingers, "Yes! I mean no! Wait, my what?!?" Superman choked. When he spoke again, his voice seemed strangled, "Nevermind. I don't need to know fifty euphemisms for male anatomy." He held up his hand to stop her when he noticed Lois opening her mouth to respond.

_Damn. That could've been fun. _"Okay. Back to my original question. Does it pinch?" Lois stared at him as if she were waiting to hang on his every word.

"Do I have to answer that?" He looked almost resigned to his fate standing there with his arms folded across his chest, his head drooping slightly.

"Well, yes. If I don't ask you, then someone else will. Wouldn't you much rather tell me?" Lois kicked her heels off. "Sorry. My feet are killing me."

"That's alright." He paused. "And no, it doesn't pinch. I do wear underwear Miss Lane." He mumbled into his chest.

Lois scribbled furiously in her own brand of short hand. "Boxers? Or briefs?" She asked him absentmindedly. When Superman's answer wasn't forthcoming, she looked at him. He stood there, looking just a little dumbstruck and speechless. Lois answered her own question when she glanced at his little red Speedo again. "Nevermind. Is it spelled b-r-e-i-f-s?"

Superman sighed in defeat. "'I' before 'E', except after 'C', Miss Lane." At her lost look, he spelled it for her, "b-r-I-E-f-s."

"Great, thanks!" Lois chewed on the end of her pen, rereading what she'd just written. She made several changes and moved forward with the interview. "Who altered the Suit? And how did they do it?"

"I have a tailor." He held up his hand to forestall her questions, "Before you ask, no I am not going to give you her name."

"Oh, so you've got a female tailor? Don't they call those 'seamstresses'? How did she alter your suit?" _And why does she get to remember seeing you in your tight little briefs and __I__ don't? Lucky bitch…_

"Uh, Lois? Are you still with me?" Superman lowered his voice.

At his question, Lois snapped out of her vindictive daydream involving Superman's seamstress (who just so happened to be tall, blonde and stacked), two tins of Spam, superglue and a ferret. _I have watched 'Home Alone' way too many times._ "Yeah, I'm here. Sorry. So, answer the question! How did Blondie alter your Suit?"

"Blondie?" Superman raised his eyebrow. "Where did you come up with that?"

"Yes, Blondie. And don't change the subject!" Lois waved her pen in righteous indignation.

Superman looked worried for her sanity as he replied, "Well, she altered it with a sewing machine." He flicked a speck of something from the front of the Suit. _Probably Styrofoam, _the logical part of her brain supplied. The baser part replied, _Hot Damn! _as Lois' eyes followed of their own accord, inwardly admiring the way the Suit accentuated his body as his muscles bunched and rippled under the blue material.

Lois opened her mouth, but all that came out was a squeak. She cleared her throat and tried again, "Of course. A sewing machine, how quaint."

"Is that sarcasm I hear, Miss Lane?" A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"Sarcasm? Me? Never!" Lois had the presence of mind to look slightly offended at Superman's observation.

He looked over his shoulder, his gaze focusing on some distant object. Lois noticed how his muscular shoulders tensed when he was listening so intensely. She wondered, not for the first time, what it would be like to have such sensitive hearing. _I could have fun with that. _Superman's posture visibly relaxed as he turned back to her, "The police don't need me on this one. They have everything well in hand."

_I'd love to have 'everything' well in hand too. _Lois coughed into her fist as her mind wandered. She was fairly certain that Superman must have been really worried about her sanity by then. She'd been running hot and cold on him throughout the entire interview. _Great. I can't decide whether I want to strangle him or fling him on the ground and have my wicked way with him. _

Superman added, almost apologetically, "I have time for a few more questions, Miss Lane."

"Oh okay. I'll make this quick then. Ummm." Lois flipped through her notes looking for the questions she hadn't yet asked. "Why a zipper? And where did you get it?"

"Hmm. I don't know." Superman stroked his chin thoughtfully.

"What do you mean 'I don't know'?" Lois parroted back at him.

"Well, the first thing that came to mind was a zipper. I guess I didn't think about any other ideas really. It just seemed to be the easiest option." He shrugged.

"That makes sense." Lois agreed, as she marked in her notepad.

"As for your other question, I'm sure the zipper came from a store."

Lois glared at him with her patented 'Duh' look. "Well, where else would it come from? Mars? Do you happen to know which store?"

"A fabric store? I really don't know where she got the zipper from, honestly! She had it already when I stopped by." Lois' next question died on her lips when she noticed that Superman had again focused his attention elsewhere. "I'm sorry, Miss Lane. I have to go to this one. There's a fire at the low-income housing units over by the docks."

Lois found herself nodding at nothing where Superman had been moments earlier; the sonic boom that marked his leaving rumbled in the distance. She grumbled under her breath as she donned her shoes and deposited her notes and broken recorder back into her bag. Sighing, she fished her cigarettes out to indulge in her one serious vice in order to calm her nerves. _And my libido- I really need to get laid. _As she sucked hot relief into her lungs, Lois felt the tension leave her body. _What is it about the man that infuriates and frustrates me so?!? _The sound of sirens jolted her from her reverie. "Oh crap! The fire!" She quickly crushed the remains of her cigarette under her shoe and sprinted for the elevator.

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**Keep your eyes peeled… I'm not done yet. **

**AN: No ferrets were harmed in the making of this fic. Yeah, I know… I don't think that was a prank played in any of the 'Home Alone' movies… But it could have been! Eh- use your imagination. **

**Oh yeah, I don't own or claim any rights to any name brand items, movies, books or people used in the above fic. I just borrowed them for a little bit.**

**Reviews are always welcome!**


	5. Or not?

**Disclaimer: I do not own Superman or any of the characters… I just have fun with them. I don't own or claim any rights to any name brand items, movies, books or people used. I just borrowed them for a little bit.**

**I give you Chapter 5 of ****The Logistics of Being Superman.**

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It was several weeks after the debut of his altered Suit and Lois' interview when the media frenzy finally subsided, collectively deciding that there were more newsworthy topics than a zipper. Clark sighed quietly, _Well at least most of the media._ During that time, he was able to patiently put up with insipid questions and just about every zipper joke imaginable because he was happy with his Suit.

Clark had stopped at his favorite deli for lunch to find the only television in the place tuned into Dr. Phil. As he waited for his meal, he was subjected to the renowned psychologist extemporizing about Superman's "repressed desires" and his "need for validation" stemming from issues associated with his lack of "maternal guidance" with a gentleman who claimed to be the world's foremost Superman expert.

_Lack of 'maternal guidance' my foot. Mom's the one that put the zipper on the Suit. I wonder if she's watching this drivel? _Clark paid for his food and left as Dr. Phil announced that, after the commercial, he would be talking with a Wall Street financial analyst about the impact of Superman's "cry for attention" on the stock market.

It was a quick walk back to the Daily Planet. Food in hand, Clark made good time back to his desk. He subtly inhaled his sandwich while continuing his research into an identity theft ring involving the president of the First Bank of Metropolis and a dubious insurance broker. Clark was wading knee deep in FTC reports and FACTA regulations, when the bullpen televisions alerted him to a volcanic eruption occurring in Indonesia. When the onsite reporter began yelling about a possible state of emergency, he calmly abandoned the paperwork and inconspicuously excused himself to the elevator.

Several minutes later found Superman in serious discussion with authorities at the scene of the latest eruption. Nearly everyone in the area had been evacuated, however one tiny village nestled on the side of the volcano had not been so lucky. The original explosion had blocked off all earthbound routes to the village and the plume of hot ash prevented an air evacuation. Several hundred villagers watched in horror as lava flowed in an unstoppable flood towards their village and them, disintegrating trees and shrubs in its path.

"Can you close up the crater and stop the eruption?" The bureaucrat in charge hollered at Superman over the din.

Clark stepped closer to avoid having to yell. "I can close up the crater, but it won't stop the eruption." At the bureaucrat's questioning look, he explained, "If I close up the crater, it will only be a temporary solution. Yes, it will stop the current eruption, but it won't stop the movement of the tectonic plates below. The volcano will not go dormant, if anything, it will erupt even more savagely later and we don't know when that would be." The volcanologists surrounding them all nodded their heads vigorously at Superman's explanation, relieved that the bureaucrat seemed to actually listen to him.

"So, what can you do?" The bureaucrat's frustration at the Man of Steel's apparent reticence was obvious.

"I can redirect the path of the oncoming lava flow away from the village. Once diverted, it should flow harmlessly into the sea." Clark consulted with the scientific team for a moment before leaping into the air. He circled the volcano's crater while he used his x-ray vision to locate the pipe feeding the lava flow threatening the village. He spotted it quickly and dove into the throat of the volcano, following the pipe. Before surfacing through the vent however, Clark began to tunnel downwards and away from the existing vent. The magma took the path of least resistance and followed Clark down through the new passage.

Afterwards, Clark hung in the air, covered from head to toe in grime and ash and surveyed his handiwork. Without a continuous source of magma, the flow threatening the village had halted, already blackening against the cool air.

Without looking over his shoulder, he heard the low hiss of the lava hitting the ocean. The vast amount of steam being generated was thunderous to his sensitive hearing and it threatened to drown out the boisterous cheering coming from the village. Clark sighed and rubbed his forehead; he just wanted to get back to Metropolis and his story. _Not gonna write itself._

Clark dropped back to Earth, landing nimbly beside the team of elated scientists. The man in charge ran over, thanking the Man of Steel and pumping his hand in a vigorous handshake. He used the moment for a quick photo opportunity with a sooty Superman before allowing the members of the press present to ask questions. Clark politely answered several questions regarding the near-catastrophic event. When the questions began to gravitate towards his new wardrobe, he made sure he wasn't needed anymore before beating a hasty retreat back home.

Once airborne, Clark allowed himself to relax; he flew low over the ocean, enjoying the clean, salty air. However, it wasn't long before his hearing picked up the sound of sirens in Metropolis; he checked the police bulletins to see if he was needed. _A hostage situation. Great._ Clark quickly dunked himself in the water to wash off most of the filth from the volcano before rocketing back to New Troy, keeping a close ear on things.

His heart leapt into his throat when he recognized one voice shrieking above all the others. "Put me down! I said PUT ME DOWN! Do you know who I am?!? I'll have your hide for this! You're making me miss my son's recital! Superman! HELP! SUPERMAN!" Clark sighed with relief when he realized that Jason wasn't with Lois at the First Bank of Metropolis. He shook his head slightly to clear it, careful not to disrupt his flight pattern; her voice had a decibel range all its own when she was pissed and screaming. He poured on more speed.

Moments later, Clark floated above the building to assess the situation using his 'special' vision. He noted six thugs in addition to the man in the bank lobby waving his gun around. _Great. There's too many of them to keep any hostages from getting shot. I'm going to have to be careful._ Clark stared in disbelief as he recognized the man beneath the mask. It was the insurance agent he had been investigating. _Great. Now I'm going to have to rewrite my article._

Clark dropped next to Metropolis' chief of police to confer with him and the negotiator before proceeding, his cape falling close around him. The negotiator spoke up, "He's not making any demands or responding to us in any way- he keeps saying that he's waiting for orders."

"We haven't been able to determine who his boss is. I think it's safe to assume that he won't release the hostages." The chief turned his tired eyes to Clark. "We've been discussing this; we feel our best option would be to distract the men closest to the door with the SWAT team while you sneak in and disable first the leader, then anyone else in range. You okay with that?"

Clark nodded. "That's fine. There are a total of seven terrorists. One in the main lobby, three near the front doors and one each near the other exits. They are all armed with fully automatic weapons." He squinted at the building again. "Just as I thought, armor-piercing rounds. The hostages are in the back near the vault." Clark closed his eyes and focused on the vault area. "There are at least twenty hostages."

"What did you do just now?" The police chief questioned.

"I was listening for heartbeats. The vault is lead lined- I can't see through it." Clark explained, trying to ignore Lois' shrieking before it gave him a headache.

"I'll bet money that's why they put them there." The negotiator interjected.

"No dice. That's a bum deal, Peterson." A SWAT guy in the back spoke up.

"Are your men in position?" Clark interrupted the man's feeble attempt at gallows humor. "Where do you want me?"

After conferring briefly, Clark found himself hovering outside a second story office window, waiting for the signal. He didn't have to wait long before he heard his whispered command. Quicker than a blink, the plan was executed nearly perfectly. The broker and three of his thugs were neatly tied up, their guns unloaded and folded in half. However, two members of the Metro SWAT team were being treated for minor wounds from their brief scuffle with the others.

The broker kept yelling, refusing to quiet down until Lois marched over, snatched his mask off of his face and stuffed it in his open mouth. A scattering of light applause rewarded her initiative.

As the police were hauling off the suspects, Clark took a moment to enjoy standing still. He had been on the move all day. Suddenly, the bank lobby was pierced by a flashing light. Shielding his eyes, Clark looked for the source of annoyance only to find Jimmy Olsen snapping picture after picture. He felt sorry for the young man, who currently had Lois bent over his shoulder demanding more coverage.

"Excuse me, Mr. Superman?" Clark turned to look for the source of interruption, only to be stopped by a tug at his cape. A young boy, who had been kept hostage with his mother, looked up at Clark with wide green eyes. "Mr. Superman?"

"What is it buddy?" Clark softened his tone to that which he reserved for Jason to try to alleviate some of the boy's awe and nervousness as he knelt to the boy's level. "You can tell me, its okay." _He looks so much like Jason._

"Well. Um." The boy started and stopped just as quickly.

"Come on John. Mr. Superman doesn't have all day to stand here waiting for you. Spit out what you're going to say." John's mother admonished in embarrassment which only succeeded in making her son shrink away even more.

Clark narrowed his otherworldly blue gaze at the woman who took the hint, backed off and kept quiet. "What is it John? Are you hurt?" he asked gently.

The boy just shook his head at the question. "No." By then, several others had gathered around, including Lois and Jimmy, anxious to see Superman interact with the boy. "I'm not hurt. It's just that your…" John trailed off, his eyes wide.

"My what? John?" Clark softened his voice even further. "What are you talking about?"

"Your fly is melted Mr. Superman." John whispered.

At the boy's statement, everyone including Clark looked down at the source of confusion. Sure enough, where there had been a perfect zipper this morning, now only a blackened, amorphous slag of metal and hard plastic existed.

Clark could feel his ears and cheeks burning; he kept his poker face securely in place as he quickly thanked the boy. He made sure he wasn't needed further before taking to the air before Lois could catch him; though not before he felt, rather than saw, Jimmy's flashbulb go off. _Great. Just great. It's bad enough to have a small group (and Lois!) witness that, but now… At least they had the decency to wait until after I left before laughing hysterically._

Tail tucked firmly between his legs, Clark retreated to the only person on Earth who wouldn't laugh. He hoped.

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"Clark!" Martha shot up out of her rocking chair to greet her son. "What brings you here? Why didn't you call? You're lucky Ben's in town."

Her boy stood in the middle of her living room, his hands fisted in his crimson cape, keeping it wrapped around him. _He looks… embarrassed? Hurt? I wonder what happened?_ Martha reverted to her 'mom' tone and spoke softly, "What happened? Are you hurt?"

She stepped closer to him to look him over, but he shrank away from her, out of reach. "Clark? Honey? You're worrying me." Martha hated the feeling of helplessness that washed over her in that moment but she pressed on, finally touching Clark's arm once he was backed against the fireplace.

"Hi Mom." Clark's voice sounded tiny coming as it was from inside his cape. Martha's heart twisted, she hadn't heard him use that particular tone of voice since he'd found out about Jason. He shifted his weight back and forth from one foot to the other seemingly unable to keep still.

"Clark? Sweetie? I can't help you if you don't tell me what's wrong."

"I made a mistake Mom." He kept himself wrapped in his cape as he spoke.

Martha gasped, she felt like she was drowning in her fear. _Oh no. What's happened? _"Are Lois and Jason okay?"

"Lois and Jason are fine." She visibly relaxed.

"Then what's the matter? Honey, I don't have time to play twenty questions. Tell me what's wrong." Martha crooned at her son.

"I made a mistake Mom." He repeated himself.

_It must've been bad to have traumatized him like this. I didn't see anything on the news about any rescues having gone bad. Oh honey. Please tell me._ "Honey. Everyone makes mistakes. But I can't help you with yours unless you tell me what's wrong."

"I never should have asked for the zipper." He stated petulantly.

_That's what this is all about? The blasted zipper? And here I was, worrying about death and destruction, while he's worried about a zipper? It can't be that bad. When did my young, strapping boy turn in to such a drama queen? Too much time in Metropolis with Lois Lane, that's what._ "Clark?" Martha forced herself to be patient with him. "Why?"

At her question, Clark finally, reluctantly let his arms drop to his sides and the cape fell free of its restraints and fluttered around his boots. Martha's eyes were immediately drawn to the item in question. Her hand flew up to cover her mouth. _Oh my good Lord._ She stared in shocked silence for several moments before the humor of the situation hit her. Martha's shoulders began shaking in silent laughter and she snorted trying to stay quiet. She buried her mouth into her hand to stifle the giggles.

"It's not funny Mom!" Clark's response only served to add fuel to the fire. Martha finally gave in and wrapped her arms around herself as she doubled over in laughter. "Mom! It's not funny!"

She looked up at him when the gales of laughter finally subsided. The patently unhappy look on Superman's face was purely her son's; she could just imagine him stamping his red boots on the floor and throwing a tantrum. Martha snorted trying to keep from giggling at the mental image.

"Mom! Please? I came here because I thought you'd be the only person who wouldn't laugh at me." His voice quavered which crashed over her like a sobering, ice cold bucket of water and served to quell her laughter.

"I'm sorry dear. I shouldn't have laughed." Clark looked slightly mollified at her apology. "Okay. I can see your dilemma here." Martha approached her son and inspected the damage. The zipper had melted into an unrecognizable mess of twisted metal and plastic. "Oh, Clark. What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything. The volcano did it." he replied, his voice sounded resigned.

"Volcano?"

"Yeah. I was just there this morning- you'll see it on the news before long, I'm sure. I feel like such an idiot Mom. I knew that the zipper hadn't been subjected to the radiation and yet… Look at me! I'm a laughingstock. They had a camera and I just stood there like an idiot." He moaned and dropped his head in his hands. "I can just see tomorrow's headline at the Planet- 'Super-Zipper No Match for Mother Nature'."

"Clark!" Martha's sharp tone caused him to snap out of his dejected reverie and look at her. "This is fixable. It's not the end of the world, sweetie."

His voice was muffled by his palms, "But."

"No buts. Yes, the media will pounce on this. Yes, you will be lampooned in just about every newspaper. Yes, you will have to put up with stupid questions and jokes. But you are patient. You can outwait them- they will tire of this. They did when you added the zipper."

Clark sighed softly at Martha's rebuke. "I guess you're right Mom."

_Of course I'm right. I'm always right. It's just a matter of whether or not you choose to accept it, you silly, stubborn boy._ Out loud she replied, "Well, I guess you'd better leave the Suit with me tonight honey. I have a few ideas I can try out. Come back in the morning- Ben will be out helping the neighbor brand their cattle. I'll have breakfast ready."

"Okay Mom. Just pray that there aren't any disasters tonight, otherwise people might get an eyeful." He quipped.

"I see you're feeling better about this whole business."

"Yeah. I guess I am. You're good for my peace of mind Mom."

"That's what mothers are for. Now, there is a pair of jeans and a t-shirt in the bureau in the spare room. I think there's a pair of your old work boots in the tack room in the barn, I'll get them while you change. Don't forget to bring the Suit out when you're done." Martha patted Clark on the arm as he turned to walk down the hall. "Oh! And you better pray that nothing's stuck to your skin!"

"Mom!" Clark's reply was cut off by the slamming of the bedroom door.

_I love teasing him. He's so cute when he blushes._ Martha had an idea that was niggling the edge of her consciousness. _What is that? Ooh! I know how to fix this- I need to run in to town though._

She didn't mention her idea to Clark when he came back for fear that it might not even work. Martha kissed her son goodnight and watched him take to the cool night air, the breeze whipping his shirt across his broad shoulders.

_Now. Time to get to work. This is going to be fun._

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"No." The next morning found Clark in his mother's kitchen, nibbling on toast and going over her ideas to fix the Suit. Martha was currently holding up a pair of red, Fruit of the Loom briefs, freshly purchased from the local general store. _She's doing this to tease me, I just know it._

"But Clark- it would require no sewing and still allow you to use the restroom."

_Is that a smirk on her face? I knew it! She __is__ out to tease me._

"No Mom! I draw the line at Captain Underpants."

"Captain… Underpants?" Martha looked at her son in disbelief.

"It's a comic-type book." Clark hastened to explain to his mother. "It's Jason's favorite thing this week."

"Whatever happened to Dr. Seuss, Bugs Bunny and Mickey Mouse?" Martha shook her head wistfully. "I guess I will have to get acquainted with this 'Captain Underpants' so I'm prepared when Jason comes to visit."

Clark looked at his mother sadly. "I don't know when that will be Mom."

"I know honey. Just don't take too much time otherwise you could lose them both." Martha broke the brevity of the situation by declaring, "You can hide the grey, elastic band with your yellow belt."

_Yup. She's doing it to tease me._ "Okay Mom. That works for me. I do need to get to work soon though."

"Oh you're no fun anymore!" Martha mock-pouted. "Actually, I did use these as a pattern."

"A pattern?" Clark looked vaguely worried. _Please no polka dots._

"Don't worry Clark- there are no polka dots." Martha's eyes glittered as she teased him again.

_How the heck does she do that?!?_ After all these years, Clark was still amazed at his mother's mind-reading prowess. _I wonder if it comes naturally to all parents._

"Yes Clark. If you spend enough time with Jason, you'll eventually be able to read his mind too."

"Stop that. It's giving me the heebie-jeebies." Clark shuddered. "Okay. Back on track here. You said something about a pattern?"

"Oh yes. I went through some boxes from the barn back in Smallville and I found an extra cape that had torn beyond repair. There was just enough material to fashion these." Martha held up an exact replica of his Suit briefs, pre-zipper. "Now, I made them a bit taller in the waist and lower in the leg to hide the original briefs. Not too much though. We wouldn't want to deprive the 'National Whisper' of its favorite 'Abs of Steel'."

Clark blushed at her comment, his inner farmboy shining through. "Wow. You're amazing Mom. I don't know how you do it. But wow!" Clark held the garment in hands, turning it over. "You can't even see the seams. These are perfect!"

"I'm glad you like them. Since they're made out of your old cape, you shouldn't have any problems with volcanoes. Now, I've got the Suit on the sofa. Come in here and take a look at what I've done." Clark followed his mother into the sitting room. As she walked she chatted about her other ideas. "I had originally wanted to try Velcro™ or snaps, but then I realized that you'd probably have the same problem with those as with the zipper. What do you think?" She held out the Suit to him.

"Mom, you have truly outdone yourself. Wow." Clark took the Suit from his mother to inspect it closer. Martha had completely removed the melted mass of zipper and replaced it with a simple, overlapping opening. It reminded Clark of the few pairs of boxer shorts he owned.

"You see? The new briefs will slide over the old ones like so and it gives you coverage yet still gives you the freedom to pee in public."

Clark caught his mom up in a bear hug and kissed her cheek. "Mom. Have I mentioned how much I love you?"

"Not in the last half-hour. Now scoot! You have to be at work in five minutes!" Martha shooed her son out of the sitting room. Seconds later, he stood before her in the newly modified Suit. She walked around him twice. "Not bad. There aren't even any lumps or bumps or anything."

"I can't believe I didn't think of this." Clark rolled his eyes in self-deprecation.

"Honey, that's what mothers are for. Now shoo, you're going to be late!"

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Clark kissed his mom again before rocketing back to Metropolis and the Daily Planet. _I feel better about everything already. Now I just have to endure __another__ interview with Lois and put up with jokes from the Channel 15 news crew and I'm set. Hopefully Lois won't be too spastic this time._

"HELP! SUPERMAN! HELP!" Clark dropped in altitude a little as Lois' shriek careened through his skull. _Ow. Speak of the devil… It's not even eight- what the heck is she up to now?!? _Clark sped in to the city to save Lois from whatever malady had befallen her so early in the morning. _A hero's work is never done, is it?_

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

**Reviews are always welcome! Tell me if you love it, hate it or if I should quit writing all together and go to Disneyland. No seriously, I appreciate any constructive criticism- it's the only way to improve my writing.**


	6. No Getting Out Of This One

**A/N: **Hey there! It's been a while since I've posted something and I figure it's about damn time. I want to give a shout out to Wahoogal06- she's been my guiding light and biggest cheerleader these past six months or so as I'm laboring on what is proving to be my most ambitious piece ever. I've been working on that piece for such a long time, I'd almost forgotten about 'Logistics'. I made a bet with WG last month- if 'Logistics' won an award in the Superman Movieverse Awards, I'd reward everyone with a new chapter. Alas, it was not meant to be. I want to send out a heartfelt congratulations to everyone nominated for the awards and a ginormous thank you to everyone who voted for 'Logistics'!

I have to admit that my self-confidence as a writer has been shaken these past few months (7 chapters in as many months will do that to you). WG has done her absolute best to duct tape me back together and, in her infinite wisdom, gave me a _very _sage piece of advice- the best way to give myself a boost is to post something new on and prove to myself that there are people out there who do like my stuff. So, that said…reviews are always welcome!

So, here's to WG and her wonderful friendship and advice and to everyone that makes what we do worthwhile.

Thanks! VS

**  
Disclaimer: I do not own Superman or any of the characters… I just have fun with them. I don't own or claim any rights to any name brand items, movies, books or people used. I just borrowed them for a little bit.**

**Without further ado, I give you Chapter 6 of ****The Logistics of Being Superman.  
**

* * *

"Go, go, go—move it! Oh hell, he's getting away!" Lois looked back over her shoulder at the tall man hot on her heels. "Clark! Get the car—I'm going after him!" She blindly flung her keys in his direction; he dove after them as they bounced and skidded to a halt perilously close to an open storm drain.

He scooped up her overly-large key ring and stared after his feisty partner as she bolted across the busy intersection, deftly avoiding cars and trucks in her pursuit of their quarry. "KENT! Move your ASS and get the car NOW! He's getting away!"

Clark turned to run back to the navy blue Audi parked down the block when he remembered something that stopped him dead in his tracks. He nervously glanced between his partner, her keys and her car as if mentally arguing with himself. Too late he realized that his indecision had cost them their lead as Lois' frustrated scream reverberated between the tall buildings. A soft "thump, thump, thump" reached his sensitive ears, indicating that she had found something a bit more solid, like a brick wall, to vent her anger on.

"KENT!" Lois bellowed as she made her way back, this time waiting for the lights to change before crossing. "You better have a DAMN good reason why you didn't get the DAMN car!!"

"Umm…uhhh…"

"Well?! I'm waiting!"

"Well you see…it's like this…"

She stood before him, hands on her hips, looking she was about ready to shoot her own brand of fire from her eyes. "Spit it out already! You're _reall_y pissing me off tonight!"

"I…I…" He glanced down at his feet in embarrassment as he muttered, "I can't drive."

"WHAT?! What do you mean you CAN'T DRIVE!?" Her jaw fell slack in incredulity as she took in her partner's sheepish countenance. "You could drive five years ago! So what, did you just FORGET?! Do you have vehicular amnesia or something?!"

"N-no! No, it's not like that; I _can_ drive—I just can't."

"Oh that makes _perfect_ sense! Why didn't I think of that before?!"

"Lois, calm down, please."

"Calm down? Calm down?! You want me to calm down after _you,_" she jabbed her finger in his chest, "Just LET him slip through our fingers?!"

"It'll be okay—we can pick up the surveillance on his partner tomorrow night."

"He'll have told EVERYONE about what happened tonight by then! Thanks to you we won't be able to get within fifty feet of them without alarms going off!" Anger nearly spent, she slumped against the brick wall behind them. He sat down next to her. "You still haven't explained why you screwed up our whole investigation."

Clark winced at her accusation before boldly trying to defend himself. "I didn't screw it up…"

"Oh yeah? Could've fooled me." Lois huffed into her arms that lay folded across the tops of her knees. Coming down off of her adrenaline rush, her voice seemed tiny and Clark felt a surge of protectiveness even though he had indirectly caused her current mood.

"I don't have a driver's license." He tilted his head back against the wall; his Adam's Apple jutted prominently from his neck and bobbed as he spoke.

"You…don't?" Whatever scathing remark she had on the tip of her tongue dissipated in her surprise. "Why not? Doesn't everyone have one?"

"Well, I _had_ one—it kind of expired while I was gone and I haven't had a chance to renew it." He looked everywhere but at his fiery partner.

"Just because you don't have a driver's license doesn't mean you can't drive a car." She stated matter-of-factly.

"Lois!" he cried, scandalized. "That's _illegal_!"

"Oh that's rich—have you even looked at your resume for the Planet lately? Let's see...there's the B&E on the Schumacher case..."

"I did NOT b-break into those offices," he scoffed, the stutter unforced for once. "You did! I-I just stood guard outside..." He trailed off as he recalled the investigation that had led them to the Hanover Street building in the first place.

"See? That's aiding and abetting right there! Face it Clark—you're a crook anyway so a little unlicensed driving shouldn't have fazed you." She shook her head in disappointment. "Over-grown, freaking boy scout," she added under her breath.

He opened his mouth to retort when she cut him off once more, ""Get up. Gimme my keys—we're going back to the Planet."

"Why? It's nearly six." He unfurled his long frame and clambered to his feet after her.

"Well, _someone_ has to explain to Perry why our article is going to be so short! It sure as heck ain't gonna be me, buster—it wasn't MY fault the idiot got away."

"But..."

"No 'buts'. You do the crime, you do the time. Besides, you've got some research to do."

"What? Why?! I thought we'd finished our research!"

"Well, it _was_ finished until _someone_ I know let our source escape—now we've got half an article with no corroboration whatsoever. Perry's not going to let it anywhere NEAR the presses with those huge, gaping holes in it." As she spoke, they both climbed into her Audi parked tight against the curb. Clark winced as his gangly knees hit the glove box and he whacked his head on the doorframe getting in; he sincerely hoped there wouldn't be any damage when he got out. Fortunately, Lois was too busy talking to notice.

* * *

Several days later, Lois' tantrum still had not abated. Clark sat at his desk, hunched over his keyboard as unobtrusively as possible; even so, he still found himself the focus of her wrath on more than one occasion.

"What's up with Lois?" Richard sidled up to the tall reporter rather than ask the object of discussion who was currently stapling the heck out of a sheaf of papers just to get the chance to hit _something_. "I asked her what was wrong a few days ago and all I got was some grumbling and your name. It must be something big if she's still grumbling."

"W-we had to stay late earlier this week to get the article ready for the morning paper—there was some additional research that had to be done to back up this one section since we were unable to catch our source. Anyways, she's mad at me because she feels I flubbed the entire investigation."

"Completely massacred it is more like it!" she hollered from her desk, unsolicited.

"Ouch. Sorry buddy—what did you do?"

"I uh...I'd rather not say. It's uh..." he cleared his throat and dropped his gaze to his desk. "It's a bit embarrassing."

"What's so embarrassing about admitting you don't have a driver's license? Or is it embarrassing to admit that we couldn't catch our guy because you were too busy playing "Dudley Do-right" to help! Besides, it can't make you any dorkier than you already are." Her scathing tone made both men wince. "Come on Kent."

"Wha-huh?"

"Get the lead out. You're coming with me."

He shot her a nervous look, wondering if she was going to 'do away with him' like he saw happen in the movies. If that were the case, he knew definitively not to leave the premises without witnesses. "W-where are we going?"

She glared at him over the tops of her glasses. "In case you hadn't noticed, I'm still pissed at you, and you _ARE_ going to make it up to me."

"M-make it up? T-to you?" Lois grinned evilly at Clark's obvious discomfort at that statement and Richard glanced at the tall reporter sympathetically.

She grabbed his battered, dark brown briefcase and swept everything from his desk into it before attempting to cram it closed. "Hey! What are you doing?!"

"I told you to move it, Kent. Since you're not moving fast enough I'm trying to accelerate your routine. Now—get the lead out or else..." She let her unspoken threat hang tangibly between them and Clark hastened to shut off his computer and collect his lightweight, taupe jacket before following his partner to the elevators.

"Now where in Sam Hill do you two think you're going?! You still owe me six inches of print!" Perry White's voice thundered across the bullpen, stopping Clark in his tracks.

Lois kept moving and tossed over her shoulder, "Gotta go meet a source, Chief!"

"Don't call me 'Chief'." The older man continued grumbling under his breath as his star reporting team disappeared into an elevator, all the while under his hawk-eyed gaze.

"I-it's just creepy how he does that sometimes." Lois just stared at the lit up buttons in front of her, not even acknowledging his presence. "Listen, Lo'..." She cut him off with a palm in his face. He didn't let that deter him, "I'm really sorry..."

"Sssh."

"The guy getting away like that..."

"Sssh."

"Well it wasn't _supposed_ to happen…"

"Ssssh!"

"What I mean to say is…"

"SSSHHH!!"

"It was entirely my fault."

"What?" she asked, finally ceasing her shushing as she directed her hazel gaze to his face. As his comment finally sank in, she cried out in incredulity. "You're apologizing?"

"Well yes. I've been trying for the past few minutes, but you keep shushing me."

"So...you admit that you were wrong?"

He sighed in defeat, shoulder slumping forward even more. "Yes, I was wrong. Can you forgive me?"

"You're too soft, Kent. Richard would've held out for _at least_ another day before caving." Her unintentional comparison of the two men made Clark's heart feel heavy; while he genuinely liked Richard White, his unreciprocated feelings made it hard to listen to her talk about her fiancé. "You have a bit further to go before I can completely forgive you."

He heaved his broad shoulders in an overly-dramatic, long-suffering sigh that only his mother ever saw anymore. If Lois noticed the change in his demeanor, she didn't comment on it.

"Oh come on, Smallville. It's not going to be that bad. Besides, have I ever steered you wrong before?"

He perked up a bit at the use of her nickname for him. _Finally! There's a light at the end of the tunnel. _"Uhhhh..."

"Don't you _dare_ answer that!"

* * *

"Uh Lois? Now will you tell me where we're going?" He braced one arm against the taupe dashboard while clutching the O.S. bar in the other, carefully so as not to crush it. She responded with more of the silent treatment. Clark sighed aloud; he was getting _really_ tired of her hot and cold act. "Uh Lois? W-watch out for those guys!" He nearly crossed himself as they took the corner on what felt like two wheels. Ever since that fateful day seven years ago when he'd discovered that Lois drove with one foot on the gas and the other on the brake, he did anything possible not to get in a car with her. He was even guilty of having used Superman as an excuse a time or two to avoid "Mr. Toad's Wild Ride", as Jason liked to call his mother's driving.

"Uh Lois?"

"Just shut up and let me drive; besides, it's not like you're in any position to give me pointers, Mister." They rode in silence for several minutes, speeding through at least three separate yellow lights, before she spoke up again. "So, how have you been getting around?" Lois' innate curiosity had gotten the better of her and she broke her own vow of silence.

"Wha...huh? What do you mean?" He stuttered, caught off guard by her sudden politeness.

"Without a driver's license: how do you get places?"

"Well—I walk or take the bus, but mostly I take a taxi." _Let's not forget the flying,_ he added silently.

"How do you function without one?"

"What do you mean?"

"Don't you need it for your charge cards or checks and stuff?" Clark felt eerily like one of her sources as she continued her interrogation.

"Oh well, I do have an ID card issued by the DMV. That never expires."

"Oh. Why did you get an ID card if you had a driver's license too?"

"Actually, it's to protect myself from a pretty common form of ID theft. A lot of people don't realize that licenses and ID cards are usually kept on two separate databases in most states; even if you have a license, someone can still go apply for an ID card with your name and information on it. If you have both, you cover all your bases and protect yourself from fraud."

"You sound just like one of those stupid brochures I get from my bank."

"Gosh, you r-really should r-read those, Lois. There is a lot of important information in them." His response was met with stony silence when she remembered that she was supposed to still be ignoring him.

* * *

Ten excruciating minutes later, Lois pulled her compact car into the parking lot of the Metropolis DMV located near the western edge of the city. While she hunted around for a space Clark took the opportunity to speak again, hoping she wouldn't call him out for talking out of turn. "Why are w-we here? Are we meeting someone?"

Ignoring her passenger once again, she sped first one way, then another. "Uh Lois? You just passed a spot." She just shook her head and continued driving. "And another...w-why don't you just park in one of these?"

"No."

"Why not? They're perfectly good spaces."

"I can't park my Audi just anywhere." She responded as if that made perfect sense. "Look, I can't park under certain types of trees otherwise I'll have to wash it, and I can't park it between two vans because I _don't_ feel like getting mugged and the driver's side door has to have _at least_ six inches of clearance when it's opened."

"Oh." He was about to ask why when she answered without prompting.

"Have you ever tried to get out of a short car in a skirt? Nevermind, don't answer that, I don't want to be stuck with that mental picture." She threw the car in reverse suddenly; the tires squealed as she backed into a handicap spot to turn around.

With a cry of delight, the car shot forward and slammed Clark's head into the seat. Fifty feet away, an older lady was slowly pulling her white Crown Victoria from a spot near the door. An SUV waited from the opposite direction with its blinker on, signaling the driver's intention to take the available spot. Too late, he realized that Lois was going to try to race the SUV. Ignoring pretty much every traffic rule in the book, she gunned the engine and slid into the parking spot before the Ford had even really cleared out of it.

The driver of the SUV laid on his horn and Lois stuck her head out of the driver's side window and shouted, "Do you_ mind_? Can't you see I'm trying to park?! Where'd you learn to drive anyway, Timbuktu?!"

The driver responded with a rude hand gesture and sped off which served to further irritate her. "Geez—some people just can't take defeat real well. I won this spot, fair and square."

"I wouldn't say that, per se…"

"Did I _ask_ you?" At his silence, she continued, "Didn't think so." Lois calmly shifted the Audi into park and shut off the engine. As she moved to gather her purse, Clark sat completely still, head pressed against the headrest, eyes closed, with one hand on the dash and the other braced against the window. When he made no move to exit the car, she got mad. "Come off it, Kent, I am _NOT_ that bad of a parker."

"It's not the parking, it's the driving that concerns me," he muttered under his breath as he staggered from the vehicle, thankful to be in one piece.

"_What_ was that?!" she snapped.

He stared at her from behind his thick lenses with wide eyes. "Um, look at that tree!"

"Yeah? What about it?"

"Uhhh, gee, Lois. You don't suppose it's an elm do you?"

"It's a birch. Now get a move on—you're worse than Jason stalling at the doctor's office when he has to get a shot."

At the mention of shots Clark winced, although the only time he had to have one he was unconscious and the nurse was still unable to pierce his skin. "You still haven't explained why we're here."

"YOU are going to re-apply for a driver's license."

"What? Now?!"

"No, next year—yes now! Now move your skinny ass before I have to drag you in there!" Several people emerging from the building gave Lois a wide berth as she stood in the middle of the walkway, hands perched on her hips and tapping her foot.

He sighed again before following her into the Metropolis DMV._ It's turning into a very sigh-worthy day, isn't it?_

* * *

Clark wanted very much to blend in with the furniture and potted plants when Lois breezed up to the check-in desk like she owned the place and sized up the older, Morgan Freeman look-a-like behind the counter before cutting him off in mid-greet and demanding, "We're here on _very_ important business—we need to see a clerk right away."

"Huh," the man chuffed into his grizzled, white mustache. "Lady, you and everybody else. And just what _very_ important business are you here for?" His equally scruffy and white eyebrows climbed towards his hairline as he feigned attentiveness.

"Hey—I don't like your attitude!"

"Well, I don't like yours neither. There's a line, you either state what you're here for or leave—take your pick."

Lois huffed indignantly and jutted her thumb in Clark's direction, "He needs a driver's license."

The clerk snorted, "Well, why didn't you say so?" He ignored Lois' outraged countenance and peered up at Clark's towering for, returning the bumbling man's wide smile. "Hello, Sir. Welcome to the Metropolis DMV."

"Thank you," Clark replied with genuine warmth.

"Hey! You never welcomed me!"

Disregarding the tiny woman in front of him, he continued to speak with Clark. "Have you ever had an Illinois license before, Sir?"

"Y-yes."

"Where was it issued?"

"H-here in Metropolis." Lois gave a dramatic roll of her eyes at her partner's stuttering and muttered under her breath, "_Dork._"

"Have you had a license in any other state?"

"Y-yes. Kansas." Clark could've sworn he heard Lois cover up a 'Farmboy' comment with a well-timed cough. He quickly glanced at her only to find that she was digging through her purse.

"Alright, name please." He tapped a few more keys and stared at the computer screen.

"Clark Kent."

At the mention of his name, the older man's head snapped up from his computer and seemed to really look at Clark for the first time. "Heeey! Like the reporter!"

"Why yes, just like the reporter—I'm Lois Lane by the way." She interjected, sensing an opportunity to flout her minor-celebrity status.

"Good for you." He stood and grasped Clark's hand warmly, pumping it up and down with the vigor of a man half his age. "It is such an honor to meet you, Mr. Kent! Remember that article you wrote at Christmas, the one that kept them from closing the Downtown YMCA? Well, my granddaughter was one of the kids in the photo! She was so excited to see Superman but the look on her face when she saw herself in the newspaper was just magical. I cut it out and put it on the fridge so she could see it every day."

"That's nice, Mr…" Lois craned her neck to look at his badge, "Loomis. Driver's license? Remember?"

"Don't interrupt, Missy; it's rude. Didn't your mother teach you any manners?" he admonished harshly.

A snort from Clark's direction as he tried unsuccessfully to contain his laughter served to further incense her. "We _are not_ here to discuss what my mother did or did not teach me, not that it is any of your business anyway. We _are_ here for his driver's license and I will report you to your supervisor if you continue to treat us like this."

"Fine." He glared hostilely at Lois. "Here is your ticket, Mr. Kent. Please have a seat over there and wait until your number is called."

Lois glanced dismally at the indicated waiting area which was currently standing room only. "Can't we get in that line over there?" She pointed at a short line at the far end of the counter.

"Only if you call our 800 number and make an appointment."

Lois pulled out her phone. "Great—what's the number?"

"1-800-METDMV2." She began punching buttons on her phone; the clerk waited until she hit 'send' before continuing with his statement seemingly just to aggravate her further. "Appointments must be made at least 48 hours in advance and are available on Thursdays and Fridays only. Unless you want to come in next week, I suggest you wait."

Glaring at the older man, she flipped her phone shut and made to give him a piece of her mind when Clark quickly interrupted the brewing storm. "Gee Lois, it's not that important. I can make an appointment and come back later. That way we won't have to wait."

"We are NOT leaving until _YOU_ can drive legally. We'll wait." She glared at Mr. Loomis then punched in her speed dial and spoke briefly with Richard, explaining where she'd gone off to and that she'd likely be late getting home.

"It's no trouble, r-really. I can come back at a better time," he cut in while she was still on the line.

In the midst of this, Lois snatched the tear-off number away from Mr. Loomis and stalked to the end of the long line. "We're doing this NOW. If we don't, you're going to come up with one of your famous excuses and several months down the road, we'll end up doing this all over again. I AM NOT going to lose another story just because you're too big of a flake to get a license."

Clark winced as her statement hit home and sighed in defeat when he realized that she wasn't going to give up; he leaned on the wall next to her and figured it wouldn't hurt to throw in his two cents. "Gosh Lois, you could've been nicer to the man."

"So?" She pulled out her phone once more and settled in for the long wait, playing a game of solitaire.

"S-so, as my mother always says: 'You catch more flies with honey…'"

"…than with vinegar.' Yeah, yeah. You've said that before. Now shut up and let me concentrate."

Sensing an opportunity, he left Lois with his number to save their spot and made his way back to the check-in desk to apologize for her behavior and converse further with the interesting man at the front desk.

* * *

"Did you see that?!" Lois hissed.

"See what?"

"She just ripped up his test! What was _that_ all about?" She craned her neck to check out the commotion at the front of the room. The young man in front of the counter grabbed his bag and hurried out the door without making eye contact with anyone.

Clark just shook his head and returned to the "Popular Mechanics" magazine opened in his lap. When it became apparent that Lois was not going to let the subject drop, he informed her of what had transpired without looking up from an article about Tesla sports cars. "He had to use the restroom in the middle of his test so he took it with him. The clerk saw him leave and come back and had to rip up his test. He can't reapply for 24 hours."

"What? That's stupid!"

"Unfortunately, it's the rules and we have to abide by them." He deftly pointed at the sign posted above the test-taking counter, still without looking up from his article.

"Oh. Well, I still think it's stupid."

"_Now serving B723 at Window 7."_

"Finally! I can't believe we had to wait an _hour_!"

Laughing quietly at her impatience, he snatched the paper number from Lois and made his way to Window 7. "Uh hi."

"Hello, Sir. You're here for a new license, correct?"

"Yes."

She popped a bubblegum bubble in his face. "Name please."

After spending five more minutes going through the same rigmarole as earlier when they'd first arrived, he was given a long, multiple choice test form. When the young clerk crossed through the back, she'd explained that that section was for first-time license applicants only. She directed him to the test-taking area and he sidled up to an empty place at the counter.

Several questions into his test, the sound of crunching metal and screams met his sensitive ears. An out-of-control city bus was careening down the street, the accelerator stuck open. The driver was swerving to avoid pedestrians and cars and frantically laying on the horn. An elderly couple in the back of the bus clutched each other, fervently praying; a mother held her young son tight to her chest as the grocery bag at her feet toppled, sending cans and fruit rolling; adding to the pandemonium was a group of young schoolgirls, all frantically screaming at the top of their lungs. Clark looked at the scene through the wall and then back down at his test then over at the clerk before glancing at Lois. Making his decision, he surreptitiously used super-speed to finish the test, making sure that he didn't burn holes in the paper. He hurried back over the young clerk and stood behind the gentleman at the counter.

Anxious to get to the bus, he bounced slightly on the balls of his feet. The clerk noticed this and motioned him up, asking what the problem was. "I've finished my test but I have to use the restroom. Is it alright if I leave it here for grading?"

She looked surprised at the speed with which he'd finished and nodded dumbly while glancing at the clock on the wall. "Thanks!" He glanced around, looking for the best exit before leaving through the front door.

As the door swung shut, he heard the clerk: "Sir! The bathroom is..." but he'd already gone. "That way."

* * *

Thirty minutes later, he came back through the front door, adjusting his tie and smoothing his hair down. Saving the bus and all of its passengers only took ten minutes but the officers that responded had asked for his opinion on whether the brakes could've been cut and he'd had to detour by his apartment for a quick shower to rinse the motor oil from his hair. _I hope nobody notices I've got a different tie on._ He sidled up to Lois, who still sat where he'd left her, oblivious to the fact that he'd left. She was knee deep in an article in 'People' magazine when he returned.

"Geez Clark—that's got to be the longest bathroom break I've ever seen any guy take!"

_Okay, maybe not __**that **__oblivious._

"Wait, let me guess! You have a phobia of using public restrooms and had to go all the way home to 'go'?"

"Uhh, something like that." _That's got to be the __**most**__ embarrassing excuse for leaving yet._ Lois responded by pointing at the line and clearing her throat. He followed her direction and approached Window 7. He spoke briefly with the clerk and made his way back to Lois.

"Well? What's the verdict?"

"I passed. W-we just have to wait over there for the examiner to come back from another test." He pointed to a couple of rundown, faded maroon chairs propped next to an outer door.

* * *

"I'm bored!" She whined from her seat next to Clark, "I don't have any more booklets. Isn't that stupid instructor supposed to be here by now?"

"Lois, it's only been," he glanced at his watch, "twenty minutes." His super-hearing chose that moment to kick in and alert him to a bank robbery in progress just down the street. "Uhhh...I have to go, again. I'll be _right_ back!"

"But what about..." He heard her frustrated grumble as the doors swung shut behind him once again.

* * *

"Do you smell gunpowder?" She didn't wait for Clark's answer before continuing, "I smell gunpowder." At his shrug, she returned to her booklet and continued drawing beards and glasses on all of the people in the diagrams. Almost as an afterthought, she added: "Oh yeah—I hope you're happy. They called your number while you were visiting the 'facilities'. Since you weren't here, the instructor had to take someone else. It'll be_ another_ half hour before your test. You're making me miss Richard's spaghetti."

He piped up to say something in defense, but the rejoinder died on his lips at Lois' unhappy glare. Clark settled for groaning quietly and frowning. _Just my luck—sometimes I wonder if I'll ever catch a break. _

* * *

"Clark Kent?" A deep, bass voice rumbled from the doorway to their left.

Clark scrambled to his feet and came face to face with a broad, middle-aged, dark haired man. "Y-yes?"

"My name's Jack Galindo. I'll be riding shotgun during your exam today." He extended a thick, callused hand and winced only slightly when Clark squeezed a little too hard. "I hope you feel alright, Mr. Kent. Your wife explained where you'd run off to earlier."

"My w-wife? Oh! We're not m-married. This is Lois Lane—she's my work partner."

"My apologies, Miss Lane. It's not often I see co-workers sitting through a license application together."

An unladylike snort punctuated her response, "Well—if you had such a _huge_ flake as a partner, you'd be sitting on him to make sure he applied too." She softened a bit at Jack's surprised look over her harsh tone and continued, "Um, I was wondering if I might be able to tag along too?"

"Weeeeell, I don't usually let anyone else in the car—it's a huge distraction, see? But, seeing as how you're both adults I'll allow it this time…" Lois squealed in delight until the examiner piped up again, "…but only if you're as quiet as a mouse. Not a peep."

"Okay—I'll be quiet, I promise." She jabbed Clark in the ribs when he snorted in disbelief. "Ow! Do you have a Kevlar vest under your coat or something? Geez!" Lois gingerly rubbed her sore elbow.

"Alright folks. If you'll just follow me out this way, we'll get started." Mr. Galindo pushed through the swinging glass door and walked out into the parking lot with Lois and Clark in tow. "So, Mr. Kent, did you have a vehicle to test in today?"

Clark glanced back at Lois. "Don't look at me, Buddy. You are NOT driving my Audi. Period!"

"That would be a 'no', Sir."

"That's alright—I always ask in case someone feels more comfortable driving a car they're familiar with. We've got a couple of testers that we use in cases like this."

Lois opened her mouth to say something to the instructor, but was cut off when Clark rounded the corner and suddenly stopped short. "You've got to be kidding me."

"What's wrong, Smallville?"

"You mean I have to drive _that_?" He pointed at the small car the examiner was currently unlocking; the silver, early model Toyota Prius looked out of place in the parking lot surrounded by giant gas-guzzling SUVs. With the Metro DMV sticker on the door, it stood out even further.

"What's wrong with it?"

"It looks like a clown car, Lois."

"It looks perfectly fine to me, and _I_ happen to think it's rather cute. Besides, after that article we printed a few years ago about the dangerous greenhouse emissions levels of city vehicles, the Metro DMV went out and picked up a few hybrids." She followed the instructor's suit and climbed into the back seat of the car behind the driver.

Clark opened the driver's side door and warily inspected the seat. From the front passenger seat, the examiner cleared his throat, impatient to get started. When her partner began fiddling with the seat adjustors, Lois asked what he was doing.

"I'm adjusting the seat," he stated succinctly. The seat suddenly slid all the way back, banging into her knees causing Lois to yelp and dive behind the instructor. Once the seat was all the way back, Clark climbed in gingerly. Even so, he found his head brushing the roof so he tilted the seat back as well. Lois stifled a snort and tried to hum "Lowrider" under her breath. At least, that's what Clark thought she was trying to do. When the seat was adjusted to his liking, he moved the steering column as high as it would go, but it still barely cleared his knees. While Clark adjusted the mirrors, the examiner sighed loudly and Lois boldly asked why he was spending so much time adjusting the seat if he was only going to be driving it for ten minutes.

Clark sighed and patiently explained that the automotive industry designs all cars to comfortably fit a 5'11" person, not one who is well over 6'. "Even though we're only going to be in the car for ten minutes, the extra minute that I spend adjusting the seat and mirrors could mean the difference between life and death in an accident." Mr. Galindo quietly agreed and let Clark finish his routine.

At the examiner's instruction, Clark demonstrated use of the blinkers and headlights, awkwardly trying to get used to the cramped space.

At his third sigh of frustration, Lois piped up from the back seat, "You know, Clark, it could be worse. Just think—it could be a stick."

"Ha, ha." He awarded her sharp wit with a perfunctory chuckle as he focused on turning on the car. After receiving a few pointers from Mr. Galindo, Clark finally mastered the art of turning on a hybrid. While letting it idle, Clark stared at the steering wheel, wide-eyed.

"What's wrong?" The examiner looked up from his clipboard at Lois' question and noticed that his driver looked slightly panicked.

"It's too quiet. It shouldn't be that quiet, right? Are you sure it's on?" Mr. Galindo shook his head; he was used to these questions from people that weren't familiar with hybrids. He didn't say anything, instead letting Clark get used to the car on his own.

Lois had no such compunction. "What's the matter, Farmboy? Are you upset it doesn't run like a Deere?"

Before Clark could think about retorting, Mr. Galindo cleared his throat and asked pointedly if he was going to drive or argue with his partner. He slipped the car into gear, backed out of the parking spot and quietly slipped into traffic.

* * *

"I-I still think an engine should make some sort of noise even if it is better for the environment. T-that was really creepy!"

"The only thing 'creepy' about our whole trip was _you_. My grandmother drives faster than you, Creepy McCreeperson."

"I-I do not creep! I'm just cautious—there is n-nothing wrong with that."

"Well, Mr. Kent," the examiner interrupted their sparring, "your test looks good. I'll have to knock a few points off for that right turn you made into the left-most lane on East Bay Blvd but other than that…"

"What?! What do you mean you're docking him for that turn?!" she cried out indignantly, arms waving.

"…you've earned a 92 out of a possible 100 points—congratulations. I'll give your paperwork to the clerk so she can take your photo and you're all set."

"You still haven't answered my question! Why are you docking him for that turn?! There were cars _parked_ in the right-most mmmpfff…." Clark clamped a large hand over Lois' mouth and smiled apologetically at Mr. Galindo, thanking him for the passing grade. Once the examiner was out of ear shot, he let her go. "What the _hell_ did you do that for?! I was going to give him a piece of my mind for not giving you a 97."

"W-well, I…wait, a 97? Why would you only give me a 97?"

"Because you drive like an escapee from the Fort Lauderdale Retirement Park." She smirked at him before turning on her heel and striding back into the building; he just stared after her in a mix of shock and bemusement at her unusual brand of snarkiness. Once he overcame his shock at Lois' retort, he followed her and resumed his seat in the main seating area. Clark leaned over her seated form to collect another magazine when Lois piped up, "That's strange…"

"What's strange?" he asked sitting down and flipping through the publication.

"Your tie looks different."

_Oh geez—I thought she hadn't noticed! _"Uhhh…it must be the lighting on this side of the office."

"Whatever. Let me know when we get called again." She snatched up another 'People' magazine and quickly lost herself in an article.

Once again, Clark's number was called over the loudspeaker. "Bingo!" Lois cried humorlessly, tired and cranky from being cooped up in the DMV for nearly three hours.

Clark chuckled quietly and made his way up to the appropriate window, his partner following close on his heels.

* * *

After examining the requisite paperwork, the third clerk in as many hours instructed him to stand in front of a white screen as she began fiddling with a camera bolted to the counter. The middle-aged woman glanced through the viewfinder, frowned and looked up at Clark. "Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to remove your glasses."

"M-my glasses? Why? I never had to take them off before."

The middle-aged woman sighed sufferingly and launched into an explanation that sounded as if she'd repeated it thousands of times. "After the terrorist attacks of 9/11, the United States Homeland Security has mandated that all new driver's license or passport photos issued must not contain adornment of any kind. That means no hats, glasses, facial piercings, plugs, smiles..."

"Why is that?"

"It was determined, Sir, that they are a very effective form of disguise. In an attempt to deter terrorists, we have to ask you to take them off."

Looking slightly panicked at the prospect of having to remove his glasses in front of Lois, he glanced in her direction. "Don't look at me, Smallville. It's not like you've got anything to 'disguise'. Just take them off, she'll take your picture and we'll _finally_ be done. It's late and I want to go home."

"You didn't have to stay."

"Yes I did—someone had to make sure you actually did this."

"But..."

"Sir! I have to ask that you remove your glasses, please." Clark started, he'd forgotten about the clerk so absorbed was he in arguing with Lois.

"What's wrong, Clark? You worried that no one would recognize you without your glasses? You probably don't look any different without them."

_You'd be surprised, Lois._

"Uh okay." He quickly ran through his options as it was obvious that Lois wasn't going to leave. _If I take them off, she might recognize me. Then again, she might not—my hair is different._ He determined that it would be best to play it safe and not take his glasses off in front of Lois; if she ever found out about his 'other job', he wanted to actually _tell_ her, and in a much less crowded setting.

"Lois? Uh, isn't that your source from the Belmont case?" He pointed towards the front door; as expected, his partner turned to investigate.

"I can't see."

"Oh, she just went out the front door, you might be able to catch her. Don't worry I'll be fine—I'm just having my picture taken. What could possibly go wrong?" Lois looked at him oddly before hurrying out of the building in pursuit of her quarry. He turned back to the clerk and gave her his best, sheepish grin. "I'm sorry about that."

"That's alright—we'll make this quick, I've got three other people after you then I'm done for the day. Okay, take your glasses off, stand behind the blue line on the floor and keep your back to the white screen. Great." She looked through the viewfinder of the camera and frowned.

"What's wrong?" He kept an ear out for Lois, hoping that she'd given up and gone home.

"You're too tall. I have to adjust the camera." The clerk rummaged around for a small stepstool and he fidgeted on the spot.

"I-it's okay, Miss. I can kneel or sit if that's easier."

"You can't do that—you'll be too close to the camera and it doesn't focus right when that happens. It'll only take a sec to adjust it up."

Almost too late, he heard Lois grumbling under her breath and panicked. "Why are you still here? I thought taking your picture would be a quick thing." As she came into view, Clark slapped his glasses back onto his face.

"He's too tall—I have to adjust the camera up some."

"Oh."

"I thought you might've gone home Lois."

"That's silly—why would I do that? I'm your ride."

"Got it! That's perfect—let me focus it here..." The clerk snapped her head up from the viewfinder and glared at Clark with narrowed eyes. "Sir! Remove your glasses!"

"Uhhh. It's, uhhh…against my religion to take them off."

"Psssht. Trust me, Buddy, I've heard them all. Now take them off or else I'm going to have to call security!"

"Security! What? Why?!" Lois cried indignantly.

The plump lady sighed once again. "I am required by law to report suspicious activity."

"What's so suspicious about having a phobia about removing his glasses? This is oppression, that's what it is." Clark recognized the signs that "Mad Dog Lane" was about to go into attack mode but he was unable to diffuse the situation before she managed to piss off the clerk.

"Ma'am, I'm going to have to ask that you take a seat in the waiting area _now_! Don't make me call security!"

Lois glared at the blonde lady, her full lips pursed and jaw clenching. She reluctantly resumed a seat in the original seating area not far from Mr. Loomis' station. Clark took the opportunity now that he was alone to remove his glasses and stand in the appropriate place, making sure his hair flopped in his face a bit more than usual. Tired of fighting with him, the lady chose to ignore it—she was obviously just happy that he'd finally removed his glasses.

"Hey... you look awful familiar."

"I-I do?"

"Yeah, you look kind of like..." The clerk shook her head in denial. "Nooo, it can't be." She handed over a slip of paper with his address on it. "Here's your temporary license—the original will be mailed to you in about three weeks. Have a nice evening, Sir."

"Y-yeah. Thanks. You too." Clark quickly turned on his heel and collected Lois on his way out the front door, hastening to get away from the young woman with the camera.

"So...why don't you ever take your glasses off, Clark? I don't think I've EVER seen you without them."

He rubbed the back of his head and spluttered nervously. "Uhhhhh..."

* * *

A/N – Poor Clark's little adventure was based loosely upon personal experiences with the DMV, a few horror stories related to me by friends that have lived out of state, Hollywood and my own very fertile imagination.


End file.
